THE LOCUST FLOWER 
SEa- THE CELIBATE 




RIUILNE BROOKS QUINTON 




*p ^'^ 



-tuA 






Ci)PifRIGHT DEPOSIT. 



THE LOCUST FLOWER 

and 

THE CELIBATE 

TWO PLAYS BY 

PAULINE BROOKS QUINTON 




BOSTON 
SHERMAN, FRENCH & COMPANY 

1916 






This play in its printed form is designed for the 
reading public only. No performance, professional or 
otherwise, may be given without written perm^ission of 
the author. All public readings are also forbidden with- 
out written permission; application should be made to 
the author through the publishers. 



Copyright, 1916 
Sherman, French &= Company 




OCT -2 1916 
'CI,A-}38G73 



TO 
THOSE WHO LOVED ME 
WHEN I WAS A CHILD 



FOREWORD 

Plays are written for the theatre, but the au- 
dience often leaves the best and stays for the 
worst. To make the play perfect the audience 
must see what the poet sees. 

The crowd tramples on the wildflowers in the 
forest to find a restful spot for feast and danc- 
ing. The poet kneels at the shrine of the same 
wild flowers, gently and reverently feasts the 
soul and not the senses, and departs with linger- 
ing and loving farewells. 

The most completely beautiful appreciation 
of a play has ever been by the poet, who was 
often greater than the play itself, as he sat by 
the fireside on a winter's evening, too poor to 
have the lights and color, throng, music and 
the players ; but who shut his eyes over the 
rhythmic lines and dreamed as the author had 
dreamed before him — the sleet on the roof for 
his orchestra, the crackling fire for the diction 
of his players, the mystery of candle-light for 
his color ! 

The '' first nighter " must envy such an au- 
ditor, for Imagination without a sou in pocket 



jForetootD 

can see what the brilliant horse shoe, thronged 
with fair ladies and gallant men, never — never 
sees. 

I commend these little plays to those who 
are slippered by the fireside on winter evenings, 
and whose fancy still sparkles with an ingenu- 
ous delight and whose hearts still beat with a 
human joy which the jewelled bosoms of society 
have lost or never knew. 

George C. Hazelton, Jr. 
New York, 
1916. 



THE LOCUST FLOWER * 

A FANTASY IN ONE ACT 



Signifies "Love or Memory from beyond the grave." 



CHARACTERS 



The Lover 
The Living 

Love of a Boy 
Passion of Youth 
Flame of Desire 
Heart's Ease 
Love of a Man 
Lesser Loves 
The Dead 



Shades of Memory 



Scene: Unconventional garden. To right 
of center there is a fountain with a broad stone 
ledge encircling it. The fountain is playing. 
To left and up stage are many trees, and a few 
scattered ones to right of fountain. The for- 
est forms a background for the garden except 
where, through an opening in the woods up 
stage to right, is seen in the near but dim dis- 
tance the vague outlines of a beautifid mansion 
with terraces leading to the garden. Far be- 
yond is seen a vista, of hills bathed in moonlight 
which also encompasses the garden, making the 
trees look like phantom shapes. It reveals, 
seated on the stone ledge of the fountain, a man 
and a woman, — The Lover and The Living. 
Their costumes belong to no particular place or 
epoch. The man is about thirty-five. The 
woman is about thirty. Both are good-looking 
and attractive. The man is seated to the right 
of the woman. When the curtain rises he is 
bending towards her with tender solicitude 
as she sits staring at the playing foun- 
tain. She slowly turns her head and looks 

at him. 

1 



2 Cfte Locust Jflotoer 

The Lover [with eagerness^. The night is 
not more silent than your Hps, beloved ; the 
heavens not more full of mystery than your 
eyes. 

The Living [faintly smiling^. Mystery is 
woman's deepest lure, silence her safest weapon. 

The Lover [tenderly~\. With me you have 
no need of weapon, and your lure lies deeper 
than the mysteries of Earth or Heaven. 

The Living. How confident you are ! 

The Lover. Of myself, yes. 

The Living. But not of me? 

The Lover. I wait for proof. 

The Living. Proof that I love you beyond 
words to tell.? 

The Lover. Words may tell much, dear 
love, when spoken from the heart. 

The Living [imth a low laugli]. Poor over- 
valued heart ! It is from out the brain that all 
emotions spring. 

The Lover [with scorn^. Emotion is not 
love. 

The Living. Yet you would vesture Love in 
the poor raiment of which words are made. 

The Lover [fervently~\. I would vesture 
Love in every guise best suited to his infinite 
variety, — sighs, tears or kisses, as it chance to 
be, and whispered syllables for each caress. 

The Living. But when your eyes caress 



Cfte JLocu0t JFlotoer s 

me, or your lips touch mine, what need of 
speech ? 

The Lover. Caresses are but silent, cow- 
ard witnesses to honorable love. 

The Living \_'with a low laugh~\. Are not 
deeds better witnesses than words to what men 
feel? 

The Lover \_protestingly'\. Sweetheart, 
deeds are Love's symbols, but a cold and cheer- 
less thing it would become, bereft of tender 
blandishments and protests and avowals. 

The Living \_with slight irony^. To pro- 
test and to avow have made the sum of Love for 
countless ardent lovers since the world began. 

The Lover \laugliing and trying to embrace 
her while she gently resists']. Dear heart, your 
wisdom chides my ardor, but it cannot chill. 
[Passionately] I love you, love you, love you. 
[He takes her in his arms and kisses her, then 
murmurs] Tell me that you love me. You 
have said it only once and it will bear repeating 
o'er and o'er. 

The Living [with deep tenderness]. I love 
you, — dear. 

The Lover [again drawing her to him and 
speaking with passion^ . Again — say yet 
again you love me, and will love me to the end 
of time. 

The Living [gently withdrawing and speak- 



Cfte Hotmt Jflotoer 



ing with eyes gazing into space^. To the end 
of time ! That would indeed be love. I can- 
not say it, dear, — it seems to promise that of 
which no human heart can be assured. 

The Lover [in alarm~\ . What ! In the 
present fullness of our joy you are not borne 
above all doubt? Then truly, cold and grim 
the shadoAV that you cast upon our future bliss. 

The Living \_slozdy~\. Perhaps — it may 
be — women promise less and more fulfill than 
men. It is so easy to say, — " I will love for- 
ever and for aye." But are there many, think 
you, who are faithful — even unto death ? 

\_Faint ghostly sighing seems to come from 
the trees. The woman lifts her head in 
a listening attitude. The man gives a 
violent shudder^ 

The Lover. It is of Life we treat, — of Life 
and Love and Passion's ecstasy, and not — of 
Death. [He shudders again^ Speak not of 
Death ! 

The Living. If Love be Love, it can endure 
the thought of Death, because of that which lies 
beyond. 

The Lover [with gentle violence']. I can 
endure only the thought of Love and Life with 
you, beloved of my soul. [He kisses her] I 
will be tolerant of your woman's creed to prom- 
ise nothing for the unproved years to come, but 



Cfte JLocu0t Jflotoet 



this, at least, I may implore, — that of the 
years gone by, the arid, empty years, you give 
me that assurance which I crave. 

The Living [slowly repeating after hhn']. 
The arid, empty years. 

The Lover [eagerly^. Empty of Love, — 
such Love as you now give to me. 

The Living [looking intently at liim'\. 
Why should the years have empty been of Love 
for me? Is it because [with slow emphasis^ I 
am a woman? 

The Lover [moving uneasily']. Not that 
you are a woman, only that I cannot bear to 
fancy past experience of Love for you, in which 
/ have no share. 

The Living [quietly]. Yet / must picture 
without dread a Love-past in which you found 
joy without me. 

The Lover [in tender protest]. The Past 
has been a school in which I learned the better 
how to love you. 

The Living [smiling]. One may have too 
much learning of a certain sort. 

The Lover [eagerly]. Tell me, my sweet, 
that never have you loved as you love me. 

The Living [looking earnestly at himi]. 
You would that I protest again and yet again 
how much I give to you of my heart's store. 
One may protest o'er much in Love. 



Cfte ILocu0t JFIotoer 



The Lover. Never o'er much to ease the 
aching longing of my breast. 

The Living [earnestli/^. It would but 
shadow, dear, my love for you, were I to 
cheapen by denial the love of other days. 

The Lover \_with 'warmt}i~\. You mean — 
that you have loved before? 

The Living [^drawing away from him and 
speaking with feeling^. I am no girl, untried, 
with blank and unmarred pages in my Book of 
Life. I tell you, I have lived and I have loved. 

The Lover [desperately'\. But never — 
say it — never as you now love me. 

The Living [quietly^. I shall not blind 
myself to truth even for what you are to me this 
hour. I have loved — in the past — as well, 
but in a different way. 

The Lover [staring at her and speaking 
with bitterness~\. O God! And I believed you 
mine, and mine alone ! 

The Living [with tender gravity^. And so 
I am, beloved, yours — now — beyond all ques- 
tion and all doubt. 

-The Lover [taking a few steps away from 
herJi, Today is but a monument of tarnished 
gilt for any man who sees upon its surface mir- 
rored images of Loves of Yesterdays. 

The Living [with gentle irony']. Doubt- 
less, if in the mirror man but finds reflections 



Cfte JLocu0t Jflotoer 



from his own dim amorous past, the point of 
view is changed. 

The Lover [^turning quickly towards her 
and speaking with warmth'\. What man, think 
you, who drinks deep from the Cup of Life as I 
have done, can fail of garnered memories and 
the toll they must exact of sorrow and of joy? 

The Living [eagerly, leaning towards him^. 
None, none — or woman either — that is what 
I claim. 

The Lover [approaching and bending over 
her]. But I, at least, will say, and glory in 
the saying, — I never loved before, in the same 
way or yet as well as I love you. 

[From the forest comes a low, ghostly y 
wailing sound of infinite sadness and re- 
proach. The man and woman start. 
She rises to her feet and they stare at 
each other] 

The Living [whispering]. What was that 
strange and ghostly sound? 

The Lover [reassuringly hut in rather un- 
certain tones and putting his arm around her]. 
'Tis but the night wind in the trees. 

The Living [clasping her hands]. It 
sounded like the wail of heartbreak and of 
tears, — of countless voices on a sea of sadness 
and despair. [A slight pause and then she 
adds slowly] Voices of women who have loved. 



8 Cl)e JLocu0t JFlotoet 

The Lover \_drawmg her to the stone ledge 
of the fountain, and sitting as before, to the 
right and she to the left~\. Dear love, you are 
as full of fancies as the night of sentient things 
that hide within the forest and stir with the 
stirring of the trees. 

The Living \_raising her face to /m]. And 
so my poor avowal of present love and faith 
contents you not, and you would shame me by 
avowing that for me you did reserve the one, 
the great, the only love of all your life. 

The Lover [passionatelyl. I love you as I 
never loved before ! 

[Again from the surrounding forest comes 
the ghostly wail. They start and shud- 
der and look fearfully into the dark re- 
cesses of the woods to the left~\ 

The Living. Surely the night is sighing for 
the countless lovers who have vowed their love 
as you vow yours, and vowed it oft in vain. 

The Lover [trying to he composedly. Dear 
heart, to simplest mysteries of the night you do 
impart a meaning full as quaint and strange as 
it is beautiful. 

The Living [turning hack towards him^. 
But, to return, tell me — for I am but a woman 
with all a woman's yearning to upraise the veil 
that lies between her soul and that of him she 
loves — tell me of those Loves of Long Ago, be- 



Cfte 3Locu0t Jflotoer 9 

fore — / came. Tell me — for I wish to un- 
derstand just what has moulded you and given 
you at last to me. 

\_0n the trunk of a tree to left appears a 
phosphorescent spot of light, misty and 
dim. The man suddenly sees it and 
starts forward on the ledge, still holding 
the woman in his armsl^ 
The Lover [m awed whisper, pointing to the 
tree']. See, the light upon that tree! 

The Living \^turning her head, and gazing 
where he points]. I see naught but moonlight 
shining on the bark. 

The Lover [whispering]. Moonlight! It 
is not the moon. How strange a thing it is ! 
\_He passes his right hand over his eyes] 

The Living [softly laughing and looking at 
him]. Ah so, 'tis you who of strange phanta- 
sies are now possessed. 

[Suddenly from the shadow of the tree on 
which the spot of light has appeared, 
there comes gliding softly the misty fig- 
ure of a woman. It is Love of Boy. 
She is very young and lovely, with blue 
eyes and pale gold hair. Her draperies 
are of primrose color, and primroses 
crown her head. The spot of light con- 
tinues to shine upon the tree-trunk. 
Love of Boy approaches and stops near 



10 C6e Hotmt JFIotoet 

the couple seated hy the fountain. The 
man starts and stares at the apparition 
in awed stupefaction. The woman sees 
nothing; she gazes straight ahead of 
her~\ 
The Living. Tell me of your first sweet- 
heart. A man's first love must surely be a sa- 
cred memory. Defile it not by foolish and by 
vain denial. Tell me, dear heart, just what it 
meant to you. 

Love of Boy [her voice soft and musical as 
the echo of a distant Uute^. I am the first, for 
I am she you cherished in your boyhood, inno- 
cent and pure, the while you stood abashed be- 
fore the miracle of Love. 

The Lover [staring at the apparition and 
speaking slowly as if in a trance^. Dear, ten- 
der little love of boyhood days ! You meant to 
me the scent of April flowers, the songs of 
birds, the dew upon the grass at dawn. You 
meant all sweet, untarnished things, all clean 
delights of Love when Spring is young! 

The Living [fervently^ looking at her lover^ . 
Dear God be praised that your novitiate to Love 
was served so worthily. I am not fearful of 
that faint, sweet memory of bygone days, and 
yet — I think — I envy her because she was 
the first. But I forgive her, for she held you 
only for a little space, then sped you on to me. 



Cfte JLotwt JFlotoet n 

Love of Boy. I held you only for a little 
space, because I knew not life or men, or how 
to keep what I had won. 

The Lover [gazing at the apparition and 
speaking softly'\. Dear, tender little love! 
The fragrance of that pure affection stayed 
with me through the years, and kept within my 
soul a vision, clean and true, of all that Woman 
and that Love were meant to be. 

The Living [speaking as the vision of Love 
or Boy fades slowly hack into the shadow of 
the tree from whence it came, and on which the 
light continues to shine^. Tell me, beloved, 
what was added then unto your store of gar- 
nered memories of Love? 

[As she is speaking, a misty spot of light 
has appeared upon the trunk of another 
tree to left. From its shadows has 
glided out a figure draped in deep rose 
tint, with ferns and roses wi her gold- 
brown hair. 
[It is Passion of Youth. She is beauti- 
ful and young, but of a more mature 
youth than Love of Boy. She stands 
near the fountain, and as the man be- 
comes conscious of her, he gazes at her 
in the same surprised absorption as be- 
fore. ] 
Passion of Youth [her voice deep and vi- 



12 Cfte !Locu0t Jflotoet 

brant, but coming as from a distance^. It was 
from me you learned that Love in its comple- 
tion is the immortal essence of what men call 
Human Passion, and that true Passion's crown 
is Love. 

The Lover [bending eagerly forward and 
speaking as if in a trance^. Ah, second mis- 
tress of my heart! I gave to you the tender 
reverence that is born of man's diviner part, 
warmed by that flame of Passion which is but 
desire purged of all gross, debasing things by 
Love's pure breath. 

The Living [bending towards Mm, with a 
note of pain in her voice'\. Ah so, — from her, 
your second love, you learned the mystery that 
blends the forces of the body and the soul, — 
and thus to her you gave the best that man may 
know of Love. Why, then, did she not hold 
you to the end.^ 

The Lover [rvith sadness, gazing at the vi- 
sion^. Dear Love of early Summer Days, who 
might perchance have held me to the end ! I 
cannot tell. You wearied of me, for with all 
my treasure trove of Love, I was too crudely 
young to satisfy your more mature and critical 
demands. 

Passion of Youth. I wearied of you, for 
you were my plaything, not my king. I passed 
to other joys and other loves of which I wearied 



Cfte Locu0t jFlotoet i3 

too. With you I might have found all things 
I sought; with me you might have reached ful- 
fillment of all cravings of your soul. But cher- 
ish not regret, for it was but a chance at best. 
In place of Happiness we might have found, to- 
gether, on the Road of Life, Despair and bit- 
ter Hate. 

The Lover [with deep feeling^. Passion of 
Youth, — ah,, cruel ecstasy — that left me with 
a bitterness as poignant as my love had been 
sincere ! From that, the first illusion lost, 
came other things that poisoned for a time the 
wells of Youth. But later, as the years passed 
by, all bitterness was gone and in its stead there 
came a sure appraisal of my loss and of my 
gain. So, I forgive — dear spirit of a passion 
dead and gone — the misery that once was 
mine. 

The Living [speaking as the vision of Pas- 
sion OF Youth fades bach into the tree from 
whose shadow it had emerged^ . I think — I 
understand. I neither fear nor envy that lost 
Love of Long Ago. She helped to mould you 
in the crucible of pain. Had I been in her 
place, I should not have you now. Pass on, 
dear heart, pass on to that which followed in the 
wake of what you have described. 

[A light appears on a third tree to the 
left, and from its shadow emerges a fig- 



u Cfte ILocugt jFlotoer 

ure draped in deep red, with poppies in 
her hair. It is Flame of Desire. She 
is very pretty, with black hair and dark 
eyes. She approaches and pauses near 
the fountain. Her voice is low and se- 
ductive^ 
Flame of Desire. In my embrace you 
sought to gratify the hunger of Desire aroused 
by Passion unfulfilled. 

The Lover [^who has given a sudden start at 
the sight of the vision and recoiled swiftly as 
she began to speak^. In very tempest of de- 
spair, of Love denied, I sought oblivion in the 
arms of what men call Desire, Desire of the 
flesh. \^Speaks with increasing warmth^ It is 
as far removed from Love as Heaven from Hell. 
And when men name it Passion they unhallow 
Passion's mighty fire. 

The Living [eagerly^. And did you find 
oblivion in the thing you took, — the thing men 
call Desire? 

The Lover \bitterly~\. I found the dregs 
of all for which men live and die and love. I 
found disgust and shame and self-betrayal. 

Flame of Desire [softly^. Oh, be less 
harsh, for out of that besmirching there arose 
within you a new sense of beauty and of power. 
I harmed you not, and ah, to me you brought a 
vision of what Love might mean. For this I 



Cfte JLo(U0t Jflotoer is 

loved you, — so forgive, as you have long for- 
got. 

The Living \tenderly~\. Poor, tarnished 
creature whom you made your tool to stifle for 
a space a yearning and a hunger she could not 
appease. To her I give all pity, for of her I 
could not feel a jealous pang. Forgive her, 
dear — it was not her intent to harm. Per- 
haps she loved you too. 

[The vision of Flame of Desire has faded 
away, back into the tree, which, like the 
others, is still lit by the mystic spot of 
light. On a fourth tree to the left has 
appeared another light, and from the 
shadows comes a, figure draped in pur- 
ple. It is Heart's Ease. Her hair is 
pale brown and wreathed around her 
head are passion-flowers. She is very 
slender and her face is sweet and full of 
a fine spiritual quality. Her voice is 
soft and gentle and has a monotonous 
cadence. She stands, as did the others, 
near the fountain, and gazes at The 
Lover. As he perceives her, she ad- 
dresses him and he leans forward staring 
at her'\. 
Heart's Ease. To me you came for peace 
and solace in your swift recoil from Love's dis- 
honored shrine. 



16 Cfte Hocmt jFlotoer 

The Living. And did not Love come soon 
again in sweeter guise? 

The Lover [speaking dreamily as he stares 
at Heart's Ease]. In shuddering revulsion 
from the flesh my spirit soared above its petty 
promptings and sought, eagerly, relief with one 
whose tender pity healed the wound of self- 
abasement and disgust. 

The Living [thoughtfully]. She pitied, so 
she loved. And did you love in turn? 

The Lover. Alas, I gave her but a love 
that was a fever of the soul ; a thirst she 
quenched from her pure fount of faith divine. 

Heart's Ease [slowly and sweetly], I loved 
you, for I brought you strength, and new re- 
freshment for your weary, doubting heart. But 
when I gave all that I had to give, it was not yet 
enough. The love of man for woman I was not 
destined to inspire. The cold white flame men 
call religious ardor burned within, consuming 
human passion. You loved me not. I could 
not hold what was not mine to win. 

The Lover [mth warmth]. With my di- 
viner self I loved you. Ease of Heart. Forgive, 
forgive — the rest. 

The Living [speaking as Heart's Ease 
fades away hack into the shadow of the tree]. 
I scarcely know whether most to envy or to 
pity her who brought to you a finer sense of 



Cfte Hotmt Jflotoer n 

spiritual things, but left your heart unmoved. 
Poor, tender soul, — it may be she found else- 
where all that you withheld. 
The Lover. It may be. 
The Living [zerith renewed animation]. 
Tell on, dear love. Did Time perchance in- 
trude between this episode and what Life held 
in store for you of bitter or of sweet.'' 

[As she is speaking a light has appeared 
on a fifth tree to the left, and the figure 
of Love of Man has glided forward. 
She is tall and very beautiful, with red- 
gold hair and brilliant eyes. Her dra- 
peries are rainbow-tinted and on her 
head she wears a wreath composed of 
pinks, pansies, marigolds, tulips, aza- 
lias, hyacinths and china asters] 
The Lover [starting and staring at her 
with dilating eyes]. Ah, truly so, — Time in- 
tervened before again Love visited my life. 
The years had moulded me and when a new ex- 
perience came it found me with an intellect ma- 
tured, demanding what before I had not sought, 
— food for my mind as well as for my heart. 

The Living [with jealous eagerness]. And 
did you find all that 3'^ou sought — all that you 
say you gain in me.f' 

The Lover [putting his arm around her but 
staring at the vision of Love of Man]. 



18 Cfte Hocmt Jflotoer 

Within the shelter of my arm you ask for truth, 
and truth I now will give, whate'er the pain it 
cause to you or me. For memory is often bit- 
ter pain, and this one I put from me long ago. 

Love of Man [m a sweet, strong voice, se- 
ductive as it is impelling^. All things you 
found in me and gave to me. The pure and 
wistful joy of Springtime Love; the keen, de- 
vouring Passion of a heart matured ; the finer 
craving of the soul for that which lies beyond, 
and comradeship that seemed all else to comple- 
ment and bind. 

The Lover \^with fervor^. Ah, Love of 
Man! To you I gave, from you I took, much 
that man knows of Passion and of Love, and to 
my groping brain you brought impelling power 
that stirred me to undreamed-of heights of self- 
expression and accomplishment. 

The Living \_r es ties sly ~\. You gave and 
took all that, and yet you say she is a memory 
you long have sought to still ! What mystery 
is here? 

The Lover [slowly and sadly}. The mys- 
tery of Life, unsolved as yet by either you or 
me. This woman, whom I loved better than all 
of those who came before, was by some unac- 
counted law of man held mortally beyond my 
reach. 

The Living \_wonderingly~\. You mean — 



C|)e JLocmt JFIotoer i9 

she was not free to love or give herself to 
you? 

The Lover [repeating dully']. She was not 
free, — or such was the decree of what we call 
Convention, and of Law, the human law of 
man. 

The Living [passionately]. But why, oh 
why — if so you loved — did you not take and 
hold her against every foolish, futile law of 
man? 

The Lover [with deep sadness]. Perhaps, 
because of some unmeasured lack of greatness 
in her soul or mine. 

Love of Man [in a deep, sad voice, that 
sounds like a sob]. The lack was mine. I 
failed in greatness, so I lost — in love. 

The Living [dropping her head on his shoul- 
der and looking up at him as the vision of Love 
OF Man fades back into the shadow of the 
tree]. The jealous pang I feel is tempered 
with the thought that Love is only Love when, 
in despite of every force and every obstacle that 
Life may bring — aye, even Death — it con- 
quers all and comes unto its own. 

The Lover [gives a deep shudder]. Speak 
not, I say, of Death. 

The Living. This woman whom you loved 
consumingly, — she did not die? 

The Lover. She did not die. 



20 Cfte ILocu0t JFlotoer 

The Living. Nor yet the others whom you 
loved in varied and in lesser ways ? 

The Lover [slowli/]. I think they live. 

The Living \^with relief and eagerness, and 
raising her head from his shoulder^. Then 
why should I regret, or let my heart be weighted 
with the outlived Loves of Long Ago? Had 
they meant to you all that you now mean to me, 
you would have sought them in the narrow con- 
fines of this world, nor been content to lose. 

The Lover [embracing her^. Dear heart, 
how wisely and how truly do you speak ! 
There is no need for jealous doubts of those 
whom, had I loved — enough, — I would have 
held. 

The Living. Dear, had you then no Loves 
of lighter and more trivial mien than those 
whose portraits you have drawn for me? 

\_From the forest come gliding several fig- 
ures, some from the right and some from 
the left. They wear filmy draperies of 
pinkish grey, and are seen hut dimly. 
They are the Lesser Loves] 

Lesser Loves [chanting softly in chorus^. 
We are your Lesser Loves. We counted not 
within your scheme of life. We gave as little 
as we took and were as soon forgot. We 
counted not, — we counted not. 

The Lover [staring at the faint appari- 



Cfte Locu0t jFIotoet 21 

tionsl. I had my Lesser Loves, — what man 
has not? They gave as little as they took, of 
good or ill, and swiftly were forgot. 

The Living [^staring into space and speak- 
ing mournfully as the figures of the Lesser 
Loves fade awa4/~\. Ah, Lesser Loves! Be- 
cause you were not big enough to give or take, 
for good or ill, more than a trifling pittance of 
Love's store, I pity you. [There is a slight 
pause, then she turns her gaze again to her 
lover and continues speaking^ And is that all 

— all that you have to toiX? Dear — tell me 

— was there no one else — no one at all — 
until I came.'' 

The Lover [trembles and holds her more 
tightly'\. There was — one other — ask me 
not of her. I cannot speak of that which lies 
beyond our ken. 

The Living [drawing away from him and 
speaking in a low, frightened voice']. Beyond 
our ken ! What mean you ? Are you speak- 
ing of the Dead? 

[As she speaks the phosphorescent lights 
on the trees fade away; in the fountain 
appears the figure of The Dead. She 
is beautiful, with a pale, ethereal beauty. 
Her hair is golden and her expression is 
sad beyond words. Her draperies are 
white and diaphanous. On her breast 



^2 Cfte Hotmt jFIotoet 

are lilies of the valley and on her head a 
wreath of everlastings. Above and 
around her head glows a faint phos- 
phorescent light. In one hand she 
holds a locust flower. The man turns 
his head slowly and sees the apparition. 
He starts violently and rises shudder- 
ingly to his feet^ 
The Dead \^gazing at the man and speaking 
in a sweet, slow, sad voice, muffled, as if coming 
from fl/flr]. Of me you will not speak, or tell 
The Living who I am or what I was to you. 
The Lover \_in awe~\. The Dead! 
The Living \^rising slowly to her feet and 
staring at him in dazed astonishment^. Why 
stand you staring so? You seem so strange! 
It stabs me with a dread of unguessed ills. 
Have heedless words of mine invoked a vision 
from another world? 

[She takes a step towards him and lays 
her hand on his arm, watching his face 
with anxious scrutiny. But he pays no 
heed. After a few seconds and while 
The Dead is subsequently speaking. 
The Living slowly drops her hand from 
his arm, retreats a few steps and stares 
at him in silent awe^ 
The Dead. Dear, Mortal Love ! I grudge 
not earthly joy to you whose every heart-beat 



Cfte Locu0t jFlotoet ^s 

echoes in my soul. 'Tis not your new-found 
happiness I come, this night, in spirit to de- 
stroy. 'Tis that you did profane with foolish 
vows the high and sacred altar of Love's loyalty 
and truth. You did protest and yet protest 
again that never had you loved as you loved 
her. The Living, by your side. 'Tis false, — 
and for that falseness I am come to judge. 

The Lover [still staring at the apparition 
and making an eloquent gesture of remorse and 
appeal^. Sweet vision of another world, from 
your far realm of beauty and of peace, look 
down and pity and forgive. 

The Dead [slowly and gazing at him^. O 
Mortal Lover, I do pity and forgive. 

[Tlie figure of The Dead fades away and 
the fountain is seen once more playing. 
The man slowly turns and meets the 
gaze of The Living] 

The Living [with a gesture of passion^. 
Speak ! Speak ! I cannot bear the silence 
and suspense ! 

The Lover [standing rigid and speaking in 
a slow, dull voice^. I have profaned the altar 
of Love's truth. There was another whom I 
loved beyond compare. To her I brought the 
largess of my soul. Each phase of Love that 
I had known I lived again in her. On her be- 
gtowed a thousand million times as much of 



24 cfte Hocmt jFIotoer 

Passion and of Love as I had given before, — 
and much besides, reserved alone for her. We 
gave each unto each completion, and a happi- 
ness too great for human speech. [A slight 
pause'] She was — my wife. 

The Living \_with a low shuddering cry and 
drawing farther hack]. His wife! Dear God, 
forgive ! 

The Lover. Why shrink and shudder thus 
at trivial word.^^ She was my wife because I 
willed it so, for in the eyes of mortals it appears 
to matter much. [His voice rises with feeling] 
But more than wife, she was my mate of mind 
and soul. [He pauses and then continues in a 
lower voice] And then Death took her, and 
upon her dying lips I pressed the seal of Love 
and Faith unquenchable, which reaches out be- 
yond the grave. 

The Living [with a sob in her voice and 
throwing her head up with a gesture of protest 
and grief] . Vows ! — oh, the Lover's vows — 
made to be broken as the hearts they crush ! 

The Lover [taking a step towards her]. 
Heaven denounce me if I break the vows I made 
this night to you. I keep faith with The Dead, 
for I have told the truth of what she was to me. 
But I am free to keep tryst with The Living — 
whom I love. [He goes nearer to her and holds 
out his arms beseechingly] 



Cfte JLocu0t Jflotoer S5 

The Living ^drawing back and speaking 
with passion]. No! No! [He slowly drops 
his arms despairingly] I will not take what 
never was and never will be mine. 

The Lover [makes a yearning movement to- 
wards her~\. Can you not then forgive, and 
pity my infirmity of soul? 

The Living [gently and with tenderness, but 
making no movement towards him]. Ah, poor, 
distempered heart ! From deepest recess of my 
being I do pity and forgive. 

The Lover [with eager warmth of speech 
and action]. Bereft and desolate, 'twas not to 
fleeting pleasures that I turned for peace, but 
to the labor of my brain. It failed to solace 
and I wandered in far lands and o'er strange 
seas to find surcease of pain. For five long 
years I wandered and I sought in vain. My 
heart could not forget or even slumber through 
the waiting years. At last [his voice sinks 
lower and reverently he bends his head towards 
her] you came into my life, — I loved you. 

The Living [trembling violently and draw- 
ing farther away from him]. Speak not of 
Love ! 

The Lover [with increasing passion]. For 
you — The Living — I did light a torch that 
glowed more brightly than the tapers of my 
youth, which flickered and burned low. The 



26 Cfte JLocu0t jFlotoet 

sacred flame I lighted at the shrine of her — 
The Dead — reached out from unguessed 
spaces to devour and sear my heart with Love's 
unbearable despair. In you — The Living — 
I sought peace. Ah, can you not forgive and 
understand? 

The Living l^more cjently and bending 
slightly towards Mm]. I understand. 

The Lover [with eager yearning^. You 
will not leave me to the desolation of the lonely 
years to come? 

The Living [in a sad^ low voice~\. As I 
pity, so I will endure to comfort where I once 
had hoped to love. 

[She holds out her hands to him and he 
clasps them and tries to draw her to 
him, but she swiftly pulls away from 
him^ 

The Living [with rising passion~\. I do not 
fear the living, nor could jealous doubts of 
other Loves torture m}'^ spirit or my faith de- 
stroy. The human fetters that men forge to 
shackle — each to each — those who, in spirit, 
are as far apart as pole from pole, I censure 
and despise. No human law can chain the soul. 
Life may grant freedom ; it is Death that binds 
two beings whose divine betrothal Heaven itself 
has sanctioned and decreed. 



Cfte iLocu0t jFIotoer ^7 

The Lover [pleadingly^. But the living 
must live on, and love. 

The Living [with fervor of look and ges- 
ture^. Ah, truly is Love lowered to the dust 
when, after such a union, men can love and be 
possessed again. Death cannot palliate such 
gross offense, for to the Dead we owe allegiance 
which they cannot come to claim. [She slowly 
approaches the man and again holds out her 
hands, which he reverently clasps, bending his 
head over them. Her face has a transfigured 
expression^ Such comfort as I may have power 
to grant I promise to bestow, but [her voice 
rises~\, in the name of God, I do renounce and 
disavow all else. [He gazes at her in awe as 
she continues speaking with still deeper feeling^ 
To her whose yearning spirit is forever yours, 
I conjure you — be faithful to the end! [Her 
voice breaks and she draws away her hand and 
turns from him^ I cannot — rob — The 
Dead. 

[Slowly and with bent head she walks away 
from him towards the opening in the 
trees up stage at right. The man 
stands for a moment rigid, watchvng her 
departing figure; makes an impetuous 
movement as if to follow her, then sinks 
despairingly to the ledge of the foun- 



^8 Cfte iLDCU0t jFlotoet 



tarn and buries his head in his arms. 
The Living turns once, takes a step to- 
wards him and throws out her arms in 
a gesture of yearning love, then her arms 
drop to her sides and with bowed head 
she turns and slowly disappears through 
the opening in the forest^ 



CURTAIN 



THE CELIBATE* 

A DEAMA IN THREE ACTS 



* Theme suggested by Das Hexenlied. 



CHARACTERS 



A BRIAN O 
SCARABON 

Bassano !-Noblemen 

RlNALDO 

Paolo 

Gabrioto, leader of 
mob 

GiRALOMo, a hunch- 
back 

Ernesto, peasant 

Jacko, peasant 

PiETRO, lame peasant 
boy 

Prior of Monastery 

Brother Ricardo 



DiANORA, peasant girl 
FiuppA, Dianora's 
grandmother 

Flametta 

ViOLANTE 

MoNNA y Ladies 

NiNETTA 

Salvestra 

Two old women 
Four children 



Monks, servants, mob of men and women, etc. 



ACT I 

Time, 1333 Place, Italy 

Scene: A clearing m the forest near a vil- 
lage outside of Nappies. Forest to left, right 
and in background. To right a hut. Outside 
hut and a little up stage is a large caldron 
swung on an iron tripod. Beneath it sticks are 
laid ready for a fire. It is late afternoon. 
Voices and laughter are heard approaching 
through the forest. 

[Enter from left a gay party: Violante, 

MONNA, NiNETTA, SaLVESTRA, ScARA" 

BON, Bassano, Rinaldo, and Paolo, fol- 
lowed by servants carrying hampers of 
food and wine, which they proceed to 
spread out on the grass. The lords and 
ladies wear Italian outdoor costumes of 
persons of rank of the lJf.th century. 
They are all riotous in manner, conduct 
and conversation. They come on in 
twos and threes, Violante and Scara- 

BON leading'] 

31 



S2 Cfte Celibate 

VioLANTE \_with a gay laugh as she and 
ScARABON approach the hut~\. See, Milord! 
A deserted hut. [^She turns to him flirta- 
tiously~\ It is better than a palace for love 
and solitude. 

ScARABON [^throwing his arm around her as 
the others scatter, chattering about stage'\. 
The palace walls have ears and every window 
is a prying eye. [^They open the cottage door 
and look m] 

Bassano [boisterously, pointing to Violante 
and ScARABON ]. They are weary of our com- 
pany already. [Calls out to them'\ Hi there, 
Scarabon ! Stay with us at least until we have 
eaten and drunk. You will be in a better mood 
afterwards for love. 

[Violante and Scarabon, after peering 
into the hut, turn and go toward the 
others. They leave the hut door open, 
which shows interior^ 

Violante. Why, some one lives here. 
There are two cots and I saw a crucifix. 

Ninetta [mochvngly~\. A crucifix ! Must 
we be shadowed by the church even on our pleas- 
ure excursions? 

Paolo. Perhaps it is an old monk who has 
left his monastery in disgrace. 

MoNNA [with a suggestive laugh']. An old 
monk ! Surely one cot would suffice him. 



Cfte Celibate ss 

\_Everyone laughs. The bottles of wine 
have been opened and the food and wine 
have been served. Evert/one is eating, 
drinking and maki/ng love. Salves- 
TRA walks over and peers inside the 
hut~\ 
Salvestra [^half turning towards the others^. 
This is no monk's abode. There's something 
strange and fearsome about it. Perhaps it is 
a witch's hut ! \^She shudders and crosses her- 
self as she returns to the others^ 
ViOLANTE. But the crucifix ! 
NiNETTA [lookvng about her^. Where are 
Flametta and Adriano.'^ 

MoNNA. Oh, they wandered from us in the 
forest. Perhaps they have lost their way. 

Bassano [laughing^. They had better find 
it again if they want food and wine. 

Salvestra [scornfully^. Bah! What do 
they care for food and wine? They are mad 
with love and they have each other. 

RiNALDo [holding his goblet up in, air^. 
Good wine is to love what the lash is to the 
back of a jaded laborer. 

ScARABON. Your senses may be jaded, my 
good friend, but some of us do not need strong 
wine to quicken love. [He lifts his hand and 
tosses the wine out of his goblet~\ 

ViOLANTE [laughi/ng~\. As you toss away 



34 cfte Celibate 

your wine, Scarabon, you would toss away love, 
and some day you may have need of both. 

[Scarabon throws his arm around Vio- 

LANTE and makes love to her. One of 

the other men sings a gay song of the 

period. Enter from left, Flametta 

atnd Adriano, absorbed in one another. 

Their friends perceive them and shout 

greetings to theml^ 

Bassano. So you have come at last for the 

wine and the cheer. Your limbs grew weary 

and your love grew cold in the forest. 

Adriano [^smiling and approaching, his arm 
around Flametta]. A truce to your jests! 
We are neither cold of heart, nor weary of limb, 
but we did not want to longer deprive you of 
our company. 

[They are served with food and wine~\ 
Flametta [holding a goblet in one hand and 
a piece of bread in the other from which she 
nibbles as she approaches the hut~\. Adriano! 
[She beckons to him and he follows her^ See, 
a shelter in the very heart of the wild forest. 
[She sips her wine and offers her goblet to 
Adriano from which he also drinks~\ 

Scarabon [laughing and addressing Fla- 
metta]. A shelter with a witch who prays to 
a crucifix, or a monk who sleeps on two cots ! 
Flametta [peering inside, shuddering and 



Cfte Celibate 35 

drawing back~\. I would not pass the night in 
there for any price. \^She again peers withim 
and sniffs as she withdraws^ It has a strange, 
uncanny smell. [^She looks within agahi\ Oh, 
see the herbs hung everywhere. [She seizes Ad- 
RiANo's ar/rt] It is a witch's hut. None but 
a witch has use for herbs. 

Adriano [peering inside^. But the crucifix! 
Flametta [shrugging as they both turn from 
the hut^. Witches and crucifixes! I am in 
doubt as to which is most of a kill-joy. [She 
takes a few dancing steps forward~\ Come, let 
us dance and sing and love ! 

[She drains the contents of her goblet, 
tosses it to one of the servants who 
catches it, then with a sudden movement 
bends towards Adriano, who catches her 
in his arms and kisses her. She quickly 
draws away and begins to dance. As 
she dances, the men sing and play on 
guitars. The sun is setting. As she 
finishes her dance, she wheels around to- 
wards Adriano, who has been hungrily 
watching her. He dashes forward and 
seizes her in his arms, bending over her 
and kissing her while the others clap 
their hands~\ 
[At this instant, enter slowly and silently 
from forest up stage, right, Filippa, a 



36 Cfte Celibate 

bent, old woman, and Dianora, a beau^ 
tiful young girl of seventeen, both in 
Italian peasant garb of the Hth cen- 
tury. They stop and stare at the rois- 
terers. Adriano raises his head and his 
eyes meet those of Dianora. They 
stare at each other. On the girVs face 
there is an expression of surprise and 
shrinking disgust. On Adriano's face 
comes an expression of mixed awe and 
admiration. He slowly drops his arms 
from Flametta and takes a step or 
two away from her, still staring at the 
girl. The singing and playing have 
ceased~\ 
Flametta [^staring haughtily from one to the 
other, and smiling disagreeably^. Is it the 
wench's beauty that strikes you dumb, Milord, 
or do you cloak with silence a secret intrigue? 
[At these words, Dianora draws herself 
up haughtily and looks angrily at Fla- 
metta] 
NiNETTA [rising and approaching Adriano 
with a laugh'\ . Your eye is so keen for beauty, 
Adriano, that even rags and vagrancy prove no 
drawbacks to your inclinations. 

Adriano [haughtily~\. I never laid eyes be- 
fore upon this maid. 

[FiLippA shambles forward with Dianora 



Cf)e Celibate 37 

beside her. The old woman sternly eyes 
the lords and ladies, hut the girl ap- 
proaches with eye-lids lowered^ 
Paolo. Old crone ! Is that your hut yon- 
der? 

FiLippA [in an expressionless tone~\. And if 
it is, what is that to you? 

Salvestra. And the crucifix, is that yours 
also ? 

[There is a general laugh of amusement 
and scorn. Dianora raises startled 
eyes and lifts one hand to her breast^ 
FiLiPPA [angrily to Salvestra]. Your pry- 
ing ej'Cs would find better occupation if they 
would raise themselves to Heaven and thank 
your God [she lifts one hand and gazes up- 
wards^ for youth and health and riches. 

RiNALDo [warmly^. Well answered, old 
woman. [He approaches her~\ Say — can 
you read our fortunes with cards or by the 
palm? We will pay you well. 

FiLippA. If I tell your fortunes by your 
palms you may leave this forest less light- 
hearted than when you came. 

Flametta [drawing hack~\. She shall not 
read my palm. She has the evil eye. She is a 
witch ! 

Dianora [with sudden vehemence~\. It is a 
lie ! She is not a witch ! She knows the secrets 



38 Cfte Celibate 

of all things that grow and she can soothe and 
heal where others would fail, but she uses her 
powers in God's name, [she crosses herself^ 
and she is tender to all suffering creatures. 
\_She bends tenderly over Filippa and puts an 
arm around her protectingly'\ 

RiNALDo [^taking the old woman gently by 
the arm]. Come, come, it grows late. Tell us 
our fortunes and we will cross your palm with 
gold and give jou to eat and drink. 

[DiANORA withdraws her arm. Rinaldo 
leads Filippa to group which collects 
about her on the grass. Flametta sits 
a little apart ^ watching Adriano, who 
watches Dianora as she steps over to 
the hut. He follows her to the door of 
the hut where she stops ^ turns and look 
quietly at him. Flametta watches 
them with angry eyes. Filippa pro- 
ceeds to read palms amid remarks and 
laughter] 
Adriano [with a familiar manner, approach- 
ing close to the girl]. Your eyes have called to 
me, my beautiful one, and now your lips invite 
me to a feast of love. 

Dianora [drawing back from him and speak- 
ing with timid dignity]. I called you not. 
Milord, and my lips invite you to keep your 
distance from me. 



Cfte Celibate 39 

Adriano. The lure of a woman's eyes, sweet 
maid, lies beyond her power to control, and if 
her lips tempt, shall a man be held accountable 
if he fail to resist them? \_He seizes her and 
tries to kiss her. Flametta has turned her 
back and is now listening to Filippa. Dianora 
springs hack and -flashes angrily at Adriano] 

Dianora. Have a care, Milord ; no man 
shall take what I do not wish to give. 

Adriano [again approaching her and speak- 
ing insinuatingly^. Why should you be so 
cruel .'^ What harm will it bring you to let me 
have your lips? It is all I ask. [Suddenly 
he seizes her and bending^ kisses her on the 
lips~\ 

Dianora [struggling and freeing herself, and 
speaking with appeal of voice and gesture^ 
Because I am only a peasant girl, you think to 
have your way with me. Milord. Have you in 
that heart that beats beneath your doublet, no 
sense of pity for one so young and helpless as 
I? 

Adriano [softening and speaking with tender 
eagerness^. I would do you no harm, sweet 
maid, though your lips have sent my blood 
flowing madly through my veins. 

Dianora. If you would do me no harm, 
Milord, respect my humbleness of station, and 
leave me in peace. You are a nobleman, and I 



4^0 Cfte Celifiate 

am but a girl of the forest. Your kisses can 
only bring me ill. Leave me to the peace and 
joy of the trees, and the creatures of the woods, 
and the blue sky, and God in His heaven above. 
\_She looks reverentltf upward^ 

Adriano [with gentleness and more respect~\. 
You live here alone, with the old woman? 

DiANORA [simply^. I live with her. She is 
my grandmother and I love her. 

Adriano. And you have no companions of 
your own youth? 

Dianora [sadly']. No, we live apart. 

Adriano. But why? Why do you not dwell 
in the village, instead of this desolate spot? 

Dianora [looking at him]. Because they 
were not kind to granny. Some wicked boys 
stoned her on one occasion, and many called her 
a witch. [Her voice rises] But it is not so. 
She works onl}^ for good, and if she has knowl- 
edge concealed from fools, Avhy should they call 
her a witch and wish her harm ? 

Adriano. So you were driven out of the vil- 
lage ? 

Dianora [proudly]. No, we came where we 
could live undisturbed. 

Adriano. It is no life for a beautiful young 
girl. Come with me, and I will find you a home 
with some lady of quality. 

Dianora. I love my granny and I shall 



Cfte Celifiate 41 

never desert her, Ithen she adds haiightilyl and 
ladies and gentlemen of quality are not to my 
liking, Milord. It is they who walk in wicked- 
ness and uncleanness of heart, and not my 
granny. 

[A shout of laughter comes from the group 
about FiLiPPA. Adriano and Dianora 
turn their heads and listen^ 
Bassano [fo ScARABON, whose palm Filippa 
is now reading^. When you are old and have 
lost the power to love, you will turn monk to 
save your soul, so says the old crone. [He 
slaps Scarabon on the hackl Courage, Scar- 
abon, you will have time for many amours be- 
fore that day arrives. 

FiLippA [ominously']. He will become a 
monk, in his old age, to save his soul, but it will 
avail him nothing. The devil will have had his 
soul long before the monastery his body. 

[Scarabon rises angrily, joins Violante 

and sits beside her, murmuring to her, 

while Paolo takes his place next to the 

old woman] 

Adriano. Your grandmother is not sparing 

with the truth, — if it be the truth. 

Dianora [with a far-away look in her eyes]. 
It is the truth, for she tells what she sees, and 
in the palm the secrets of the soul are revealed 
to her. 



43 cfte Celifiate 

Adriano. And so jou think we are all 
wicked because we dance and sing and make 
love, and eat and drink and make merry, as we 
were doing when you came upon us ? 

DiANORA. Food and wine are no harm in 
themselves, Milord. It is when they are abused 
that they become evil. Dancing and singing 
are symbols of a light heart and a pure spirit, 
but there are those \_she glances towards Fla- 
metta] whose feet and lips are instruments of 
the Evil One. 

Adriano. And what of the love-making.'' 

Dianora \_looking down~\. Of love, I only 
know that it comes from God, and does not 
show itself in the guise of riotous living, and 
careless caresses between men and women. 

Adriano J[surpHsed^. You are young for 
such thoughts and words of wisdom, and your 
language belongs not to your class. Where did 
you learn this somber creed of love.? 

Dianora [eagerlTfJ^. It is not somber, it is 
beautiful and worthy. My father, before he 
died, taught me of love, and of many things 
besides. 

Adriano \_still more surprised]. Have you 
perhaps heard of Dante and his Beatrice.'' 

Dianora \_her face illumined]. Yes, oh yes, 
and of others whose loves were as immortal as 
theirs. 



Cfte Celffiate 43 

[^Loud laughter is heard from the group 
around the old woman~\ 

Adriano l^after the laughter subsides^. 
And so you think / am given to riotous living 
and am unworthy to love or be loved? 

DiANORA \_looking away^. You live as your 
friends live, Milord, and it is no concern of 
mine. 

Adriano. The thing you do not say, my 
child, chides me more deeply than any words 
you could employ. 

DiANORA [half court esying'], I have no wish 
to chide. Milord, nor any right. 

Adriano. It is true, I live as my friends live. 
But must I therefore love as they love? 

DiANORA. That I cannot tell. 

Adriano [earnestly']. Look in my eyes and 
say if you think I have the heart to love as 
Dante loved Beatrice. 

DiANORA [^quietly]. Before you can love like 
that. Milord, you must live as such men live, 
and think their thoughts. 

Adriano. Could not love itself come sud- 
denly to me as a gift from God, to cleanse my 
mind and heart, and make me fit to call myself 
a man? 

DiANORA. It may be. Milord. 

Adriano. And when I am become such a 
man, could such a maiden as the one whose pure 



44 C6e Celifiate 

eyes and clean heart have this day brought me 
to a sense of my unfitness love me in turn? 

\_She says nothing hut looks deep into his 
eyes. As they gaze silently at each 
other y the crowd grows more hilarious^ 
RiNALDo [shoutimg to Adriano]. Come, 
come, Adriano, it is now your turn. Come, let 
the old woman read your future in your hand. 
[Adriano holds hack, hut three or four 
men and women run toward him and 
drag him over to Filippa and make him 
sit down by her. Dianora, meanwhile, 
enters the hut and returns carrying a 
pitcher, the contents of which she pours 
into the caldron. Then she lights the 
fire under it and slowly stirs the con- 
tents of the caldron, glancing, now and 
then towards the group, listening to what 
her grandmother is saying~\ 
FiLippA \_raising her voice^. You have a 
strange destiny. Milord. 

VioLANTE. What of his amours, old crone? 
Will he ever love one woman and forget all 
others? [She laughs and glances at Fla- 
METTA, who frowns angrily^ 

FiLiPPA [staring into space~\. You are des- 
tined to love as few men love, [Dianora starts 
and stares fixedly at Adriano] and your love 
will wax strong until, when death comes to you, 



Cfee Celibate 45 

it will o'ershadow and engulf all the sins and 
joys and sorrows of your life. 

NiNETTA [^fliZ?/]. Is she fair or dark, this 
woman he will love consumingly ? 

FiLippA [scornfully^~\. What matters the 
color of the pigment of hair and skin and eyes? 
It is the color of the soul that counts. And the 
casket of flesh that holds the soul may be ever 
so beautiful and yet conceal within a spirit 
black as Hell. 

MoNNA. Be she of high degree or low, this 
girl of his destiny ? 

FiuppA. High or low, what matter? Love 
levels rank and takes no count of class or pedi- 
gree. 

Adriano. This love you prophesy, will it be 
returned in full, or shall I eat my heart out in 
despair? 

FiLiPPA. It will be returned in full, but a 
despair more cruel than that of unrequited love 
will rend you soul and body. It will be the de- 
spair of self-reproach. 

Adriano. What mean you? If I love thus 
deeply, how could I harm the object of my 
love ? 

FiLiPPA. As other men have harmed the 
creatures that they loved — because suffering 
and remorse are needed before you can love any- 
one better than you love yourself. Now it is 



46 Cfte Celifiate 

your body and all its creature comforts that 
you regard ; later it will be your soul. 

ScARABON [laughing'\. His soul! Good 
woman, let him first discover that he possesses 
such a thing. 

FiLiPPA [looking steadily at Adriano]. You 
are sick already of the vanities and shams of 
your class, and of your life. Your spirit seeks 
to be free, but beware how you exchange one 
form of fetters for another, less gross it may 
be, but no less deadening to the soul. 

Adriano. What mean you? 

FiLiPPA [gazing into space^. I see vast cor- 
ridors of stone and silent figures passing to and 
fro, and there are candles, candles all about. 
And I see you on your knees, and in your hands 
you hold a crucifix. 

[DiANORA starts and crosses herself^ 

Bassano [boisterously~\. Another sinner 
turned saint ! 'Tis well a few of us will be left 
to populate the world — or will this miracle 
take place only when he is old and feeble? 

FiLippA. Not when he is old and feeble. 
When he is young and strong. [She turns 
again towards Adriano.] Beware, I say, be- 
ware how you place, in future years, your soul's 
salvation above all human calls to kindness and 
compassion! He who thinks only of his own 
soul fulfills but ill the spirit's destiny. 



Cfie Celitiate 47 

ViOLANTE. But if he is to become a monk, 
what of this great love you prophesy ? 

FiLiPPA [^scornfully']. Such love as I have 
prophesied enriches the soul of any of God's 
creatures, whatever his calling or his creed. 

[By vurious gestures and ejaculations, the 
men and women show that they are 
shocked] 

Adriano. And so, briefly, I am to turn 
from evil ways and become a monk. Why can 
I not reform my life outside the walls of a mon- 
astery .? Why cannot I live and love.^^ 

FiLippA. Because at first you will not be 
strong enough to forget your conventions of 
class and station. And in disgust with all 
things material, you will turn to the cloister. 
But later, your love will again be put to test, 
and this time it will be, not the pomps and vani- 
ties of the world, but the dogmas of creed that 
will blind you to truth, and make you seek your 
own soul's good at no matter what cost to 
others. Then when you are old and feeble. 
Love will descend on your spirit and carry you 
on its wings out of your flesh and away from all 
tormenting creeds. 

[The men and women, one by one, jump 
to their feet restlessly] 

NiNETTA. Enough of such gloomy proph- 
ecies ! 



48 Cfae Celitiate 

Adriano [placing a gold piece in the old 
woman s palmi]. Good woman, I find it easy 
to believe your prophecy of love, but, for the 
rest, — well — Time will lift the veil. [He 
rises slowly and looks towards Dianora] 

[At this moment is heard a far-away sound 
that resembles thunder^ 
Bassano [looking upwards']. What is that 
noise? Is a storm descending on us? 

Salvestra [pointing to the glare of the set- 
ting sun~\. A storm! What sort of storm 
comes with such a sky as that yonder? 

[The rumble gradually grows louder and 
all listen^ until it becomes evident that 
human voices cause the noise] 
Adriano [quickly]. It sounds as if count- 
less voices of men and women were moving this 
way ! What can it be ? 

[Suddenly Dianora, with a spring, goes 

towards the old woman. Her face is 

convulsed with fear] 

Dianora. The mob ! It is the mob ! They 

are coming for my grandmother ! They call 

her a witch and at last they are coming to take 

her. O God! O God! [She flings her arms 

and face upwards, then throws both arms around 

the old woman and clings to her] 

[The people talk in groups, looking 
askance at the couple] 



Cfte Celitiate 49 

Adriano [approaching them^. They can- 
not harm her! What can they do? 

DiANORA. They will take her by force — 
they will carry her off and burn her for a witch, 
and she is good — oh, so good, and works to do 
God's will. 

Adriano. If they take her, it will be only 
after they have killed me. \_He draws his 
sword. The noise grows louder and comes 
nearer^ 

DiANORA [giving Adriano a grateful look^. 
Thank you. Milord, but your sword will avail 
nothing but to bring harm to yourself. You 
may kill a few, but in the end they will disarm 
you and have their way. 

Adriano. I will call on my friends to aid 
me. 

[The mob approaches nearer and nearer^ 
Adriano [turning to the other nobles~\. 
Scarabon, Rinaldo, all of you, come, help me 
defend this poor woman whose only crime is that 
she holds knowledge in her head that others 
would gladly possess. 

[Scarabon and Rinaldo start to draw 
their swords and go forward, but Vio- 
LANTE and Ninetta cling to them and 
talk to them and finally thei/ desist. 
Just then the mob enters from opening 
in woods up stage at left. It is com- 



50 Cfte Celibate 

posed of men and women, old and youngy 
roughly dressed. They carry sticks 
and stones and appear very violent^ 
Adriano [^angrily to his friends^. Cowards, 
cowards, to let an old woman suffer such in- 
human treatment ! Help me, I say, or by 
Heaven I swear that from this day I will leave 
your world and all its rottenness and filth. 

[The men make no movement to help him. 
The mob surges forward. Adriano 
strikes right and left with his sword^ 
standing between the mob and the old 
woman and the girl. He does not kill 
anyone, for they jump back from his 
blows. His friends call to him to desist 
but he goes on wielding his sword right 
and left, protecting the couple behind 
himi\ 
Gabriotto [leader of mob, angrily^. If you 
do not come forward, old witch, and give your- 
self up, I will let a couple of men be slashed by 
this noble's sword, and then we will disarm and 
kill him and we will take not only you, but the 
girl and burn her at the same stake. 

[Adriano fights more violently than before 
at these words. Filippa gives a cry, 
flings up her arms and tries to push for- 
ward but Adriano pushes her back of 
him. ScARABON whispers to two of the 



Cfte Celiftate si 

nobles and they stealthily come up be- 
hind Adriano, and while he is busy with 
the mob, Scarabon strikes a fierce blow 
from behind against Adriano's sword 
and half knocks it from his hand. Be- 
fore he can raise it again, his friends 
hwve pinioned his arms, torn away his 
sword and though he struggles fiercely 
a/nd almost escapes them, they overcome 
him and carry him to right front and tie 
him with a rope^ 
Adriano. Miserable cowards ! Devils ! 
You shall pay for this ! 

[/w the meantime the mob has seized 

FiLiPPA. DiANORA rushes to the hut, 

enters and comes out again with the 

crucifix pressed to her breasti 

DiANORA [fo mob'\ See, see, the symbol of 

Christ. It is hers, my grandmother's, whom 

you call a witch. Spare her, spare her, — in 

God's name I ask it ! 

[Mob growls angrily'] 
Gabriotto. Keep your crucifix, girl. It 
may save you, it cannot save the witch, your 
grandmother. 

DiANORA [screaming]. She is not a witch! 
O God — [She raises the crucifix] save her, save 
her, for she has always loved Thee and worked 
for good. 



52 Cfte Celitiate 

[Adriano struggles violently for freedom, 
hut cannot get away. Dianora turns 
towards him and holds out her hands~\ 
Dianora. God keep you, Milord. You 
have a noble heart. 

Adriano [^eagerly, as she starts to turn 
away^. Your name — tell me your name be- 
fore you go ! 

Dianora. My name — it is Dianora. 

[The mob with oaths and loud talk, drag 
the old woman up stage. She does not 
resist, hut suddenly begins to sing, with 
wild sweetness, the witches^ song. The 
lords and ladies stand in awed silence, 
listening. Adriano listens with peculiar 
intentness. Dianora follows the mob, 
sobbing and clasping the crucifix to her 
breast. When the mob has disappeared, 
the nobles begin to talk to Adri- 
ano] 
ScARABON. What a fool you would be, Ad- 
riano. 

RiNALDO. If it had not been for us you 
would have had your brains spattered on the 
grass. 

Bassano. Show some gratitude, Adriano. 
Drop your surly looks. 

Adriano [struggling for freedom']. Now 
that you have accomplished your vile purpose 



Cfte Celiftate 53 

and sent that poor creature to her death, will 
you unloose me? 

\_They free him. He stands staring an- 
grily at them] 
Flametta [approaching him]. Come, my 
lord, you are brave, and it is well, but you carry 
your courage farther than seems fit or neces- 
sary. 

Adriano \_angrilif~\. Have you no pity in 
that thing you call your heart? 

Flametta \_scornfullt/]. Pity for that old 
hag — a witch — who well deserves her fate? 

Adriano [looking at her steadily^. I am 
glad I know you at last, you and your kind. 

[The lords and ladies start to leave. Ad- 
riano holds hack apart. They call to 
him and ask him if he is not coming with 
them. He refuses. Flametta again 
goes up to him smiling^ and tries to put 
her arms around his neck. He roughly 
pushes her away from him~\ 
Flametta [angrily], I fancy it was not the 
old hag for whom you fought so valiantly, but 
the wench with the dark eyes. [Scornfully] 
Oh, well, her they will not harm, and she will be 
glad, no doubt, to seek shelter in your arms. 
[Adriano makes an angry gesture and they 
all leave stage. Adriano stands silent 
as they depart. A few seconds later 



54 Cfte Celibate 

chanting is heard approaching and some 
monks appear. They walk very slowly 
across up stage from left to right and 
disappear. Adriano, who has removed 
his hat and howed his head, stares after 
them. Then he takes a few steps up 
stage, then stops, looking after them, his 
head howed, and as the curtain drops he 
leavies stage in the direction taken by 
them] 



CURTAIN 



ACT II 

Scene I 

Ten years later 

Scene: Ottt skirts of a village near Naples. 
Village is seen in the near distance. To left, a 
small rustic, tine-clad Italian cottage, with a 
fenced-in garden fall of flowers. Up stage, to 
left, are woods with a path leading into them. 
The sun shines brightly. 

\_Two old peasant women, bent and lean- 
ing on sticks, come on from right. 
Hobbling, they approach the garden 
gate^ 

First Old Woman [querulously]. Why 
must we be tormented in our old age with the 
quarrels of our children? We should be left 
in peace. 

Second Old Woman [shaking her head]. 
Peace, peace ! There is no peace until we die 
and the black dirt is shoveled on our graves. 

First Old Woman [crossly]. Hush your 

complaining. Dianora will calm our troubled 

minds. She has a remedy for every unhappy 

55 



56 Cfte Celibate 

heart. [^Raises her voice'] Dianora ! Dia- 
nora ! Where are you? [They enter the 

garden and approach the cottage. The cot- 
tage door opens and Dianora, more mature^ 
but fresh and beautiful, appears in the door- 
way] 

Dianora [smiling and descending the two or 
three shallow steps into the garden^. Here I 
am, good mothers. What can I do for you.'' 
[She stoops and kisses them, then stands look- 
ing at them] 

First Old Woman [excitedly]. We have 
come to tell you about Jacko and Babetta. 

Second Old Woman [breaking in]. They 
have quarrelled again, my daughter and her 
son. Today she left him and came to me. 

First Old Woman. And Jacko says that he 
will never take her back. And they will not see 
the priest. Ah me! Ah me! [She wails, 
throwing her apron over her head] 

Second Old Woman [impatiently]. Oh, 
hush your wailing, fool. He will take her back 
fast enough when she is ready to go. 

Dianora [gently]. But what is it all about .'^ 

First Old Woman [dropping her apron from 
her head] . It was nothing, to begin with. Ba- 
betta returned home yesterday with some pretty 
beads bought in the market place. When 
Jacko asked her where they came from, she 



Cfte Celi6ate 57 

tossed her silly head and would not answer him, 
and hinted at a lover. 

Second Old Woman. And Jacko is a fool 
and jealous! Jealous always without reason. 
As if to have a fool for a husband were not mis- 
fortune enough for one woman. 

DiANORA [^smilingl. 'Tis said, a jealous 
man is thrice a fool. 

First Old Woman [angrilijl. Jacko is no 
fool! And a man without jealousy is like a 
fish without bones, all soft, white meat. 

Dianora [gently, and laying a hand on each 
of their shoulders^. Good mothers, if you 
quarrel so between yourselves, how can I help 
you? 

Second Old Woman [peevishly]. Babetta 
is a good girl, and a good daughter. What if 
she buys beads in the market place and then has 
her little jest with foolish Jacko? 

Dianora. Did she not explain, when she saw 
Jacko angry, the truth about the beads? 

First Old Woman [crosslyl. That she did 
not ! She tossed her head again and said that 
she would have as many lovers as she chose. 

Second Old Woman. She said that because 
he taunted her with being vain and faithless. 

Dianora [laughing]. It's all a foolish quar- 
rel of two children who have not learned to love 
each other better than they love themselves. 



58 Cftc Celibate 

\_Turns to Second Old Woman] Send Ba- 
betta to me, mother, and I will talk to her. By 
sundown she will return to Jacko. 

First Old Woman [eagerly]. And I shall 
bid Jacko come to see you also. 

DiANORA [laughing]. No, no! Never bid 
a man go anywhere. Either he will not go at 
all, or he will go unwillingly, and what can that 
avail? Perhaps he will come of his own accord, 
as he has come once or twice before. 

Second Old Woman [kissing Dianora]. 
God bless you, daughter. You soothe with 
sympathy and wisdom our troubled spirits, and 
when we are ill, you heal with tenderness our 
frail or broken bodies. 

First Old Woman [also kissing her]. She 
says the truth. You are as good and pure as 
any nun who takes the veil. And you do God's 
work better than those who live behind the clois- 
ter walls. 

Second Old Woman [crossing herself]. 
You would not have the priest hear what you 
have just said. 

First Old Woman [shrugging^ her shoulders 
as she turns away]. If it was wrong to say it, 
I will confess it when I next go to confession 
and the good priest will pardon me, and it will 
be as if it had not been. 

Second Old Woman [looking hard at Dia- 



Cfte Celibate 59 

nora]. I have heard it said that you, my 
daughter, set little store by creeds and priests 
and all their mumbling and their incense burn- 
ing, — and yet, you love and serve your God 
in saintly fashion. 

DiANORA. Perhaps I am to blame, but 
priests and all their rites and ceremonies have 
never helped my soul. I pray direct to God, 
and I strive to do His will. I have but one 
creed, and that is the creed of love. 

[The two old women call out good-hy and 
hobble off the stage. Dianora watches 
them, smiling thoughtfully. Then she 
bends and picks flowers in her garden, 
humming as she does so. Children s 
voices are heard approaching, and five 
children enter from path through woods 
at left] 
[One boy is on crutches, and one little girl 
is blind, and is led by the hand by one 
of the other children. The two remai/n- 
ing children dance along as they ap- 
proach Dianora. She hurries through 
the garden gate and goes to meet them. 
She smiles and greets them all, then ten- 
derly lifts the lame boy in her arms] 
Dianora. My little Pietro, what brings you 
all this way.? [She carries him to the cottage 
steps, where she sits down with him beside her. 



60 cfte Celibate 

The other children group themselves about her. 
She lifts the little hl'md girl to her other side on 
the stepsi 

PiETRO. I had to bring them here because 
they would not believe what I told them about 
the good fairies God has put into the world to 
keep us from harm. 

First Child [^scornfullijl. He says that 
each of us has three fairies who love us and pro- 
tect us from evil. Why did not Pietro's fairies 
straighten his back and give him strong legs? 

Second Child. And why did not little 
Jeanette's good fairies open her eyes and make 
her see? 

DiANORA. Listen, children, and I will tell 
you all about the fairies Pietro loves. 

The Blind Child [feeli/ng Dianora's dress^. 
Have 1/ou good fairies too? 

DiANORA [putting an arm about the childll. 
They belong to us all, these good fairies, old or 
young or rich or poor, but sometimes we are 
harsh or cruel and will not let them come near 
to us. 

Pietro [eagerli/li. Tell them about the fair- 
ies called " Light o' Heart " who came from the 
" Kingdom Beautiful." 

DiANORA. The fairies " Light o' Heart " 
teach mortals how to love. To love the old and 
feeble, who need our affection because life is no 



Cfte Celibate 6i 

longer so sweet to them, for they cannot run 
and shout and sing. And to love the young, 
for youth is a gift from God and has great pow- 
ers for good with love to lighten the path, for 
the path of youth is dark and rough if it has 
not love to help and understand. And to love 
little children so that they will grow strong and 
beautiful. And most of all to love those who 
are afflicted in body and mind, and to be gentle 
to poor, dumb beasts, and every living creature. 

First Child. And will the fairies " Light o' 
Heart " teach us to love that way ? 

DiANORA. Yes, dear child. 

PiETRO. Tell them now of the fairies 
" Hope o' Heart " who dwell in the " Land of 
Things as They Will Be." 

DiANORA. These fairies teach us hope and 
courage and faith in God and in the human 
heart. If we call on the fairies " Hope o' 
Heart " we will not seek evil in what we see or 
hear, and out of evil will come good. 

PiETRO. And tell them of the fairies called 
" Fancy Free " who came from the " Land of 
Make Believe." They are the ones that / love 
best. 

DiANORA. Little children, when life grows 
hard or sad, and we suffer and are weary, if we 
go into the woods or fields, the fairies called 
" Fancy Free " will come and take us gaily by 



62 Cfte Celifiate 

the hand, and out of our tired bodies our spirits 
will rise, glad and free, and we shall forget all 
the weariness and pain and live only in the 
beautiful land of Fancy. The old and the halt 
and the blind need these fairies even more than 
the young and the strong. 

First Child. They are good fairies. I will 
believe in all of them. 

Second Child. But when will they heal 
Pietro and Jeanette? 

DiANORA. The fairies " Fancy Free " have 
often played and jumped and run with Pietro, 
and to Jeanette they have whispered of the 
sky and the woods and fields and the blue wa- 
ters of the bay. And the fairies " Hope o' 
Heart " are with them always. And someday, 
when my purse is full of gold, I will take Pietro 
and Jeanette to the great city, and then they 
will be healed, and live henceforth in the " Land 
of Things as They Will Be." 

[^The sun is now high in the west. Dia- 
NORA rises with Pietro in her arms, and 
takes Jeanette by the hand^ 
DiANORA. Come, children. It will soon be 
supper time. You must hasten home. 

\^She walks with them to the wood path 
and speeds them on their way with kisses 
and farewells. She stands watching 
them as they disappear, then returns to 



Cfte Celibate 63 

her garden. From right comes running 
Babetta. She is half crying^ and, go- 
ing up to DiANORA, flings herself into 
her armsl 

DiANORA \_kissing and leading her to the cot- 
tage steps'\. Why, Babetta, what is the mat- 
ter? 

Babetta. Jacko is the matter. He is 
wicked and cruel to me. He is a fool ! 

DiANORA l_concealing a smile~\. What has 
he done to you, this wicked Jacko? 

Babetta. He has accused me of dreadful 
things. He called me vain and faithless, and 
said I did not love him. He is right \^she sobsl^, 
for I do not love him — now — I hate him ! 
Hate him ! 

DiANORA [soothingly'\. Babetta, listen to 
me. You must not hate. You must love, and 
love, and love. Draw in great breaths, dear 
child, of love, from the flowers and the grass 
and the trees, and from the sky and the moon 
and stars, and the beautiful red sun. \^The sun 
is lower and redder in the west~\ None of these 
wonderful things hate each other, so why should 
we, God's children, higher than the things that 
grow, or the sun or stars, why should we fill our 
hearts with hate? 

Babetta [gazing at her wonderingly^. Do 
you love everyone? 



64 cfte Celibate 

DiANORA [^hesitatingl. Yes — I think — 
everi/one. 

Babetta [incredulously^^. Even Giralomo, 
the red-haired, hunch-backed dwarf, who has a 
wicked heart and evil tongue? He has spread 
wicked lies about you, Dianora, which no one be- 
lieves, for you are loved by all, and he is dis- 
trusted and despised. 

Dianora [sadly^. He hated my old granny 
for some strange reason ; and because / loved 
her, he hates me. But if he speaks ill of me, he 
cannot harm me, and I feel pity for Giralomo. 

Babetta. Yes, you tended him in fever, 
when no one else would touch his crooked body 
or hark to his evil tongue. Well, / cannot love 
everyone. It is impossible. And Jacko, I 
shall never, never love again. [She weeps'\ 

Dianora. Why did you try to rouse his 
jealousy? It is an ugly demon best left sleep- 
ing. 

Babetta [excitedly, and drying her eyes~\. 
He made me jealous first. Yesterday, at the 
fair, he danced and laughed with Isabella, whom 
all the men admire. I hid my jealousy, but 
when he asked me about the beads, the thought 
came that I would make him suspect I have a 
lover. Then he grew fierce and most unjust, 
and I ran home to my mother. 



Cfte Celitiate 65 

DiANORA. Jacko meant no harm with Isa- 
bella, and it is foolish to rouse an ugly passion 
in a man which wars with love and gentle man- 
ners. 

Babetta. If / grow jealous, why should I 
not make him jealous in turn? 

DiANORA. Because you should love too well 
to harbor spite. 

Babetta [im'patiently^. Oh love, and love! 
I think we women love too well for our own hap- 
piness or peace of mind. 

DiANORA. It is not possible to love too well. 
Only a vain and selfish heart can weigh and bal- 
ance gifts of love. 

Babetta [^slowly^. I will go back to Jacko 
and tell him where I bought the beads, and that 
I have no lover. 

DiANORA [rising^. Come, you shall have 
supper with me first, and when your heart is 
lighter, you will go and seek your Jacko. 

[They enter the cottage. Jacko appears 
from right. He enters the garden and 
stops at the cottage steps~\ 

Jacko. Dianora ! Dianora ! 

DiANORA [running to the door^. Who 
calls? [Seeing Jacko] O Jacko, it is you! 
[She runs down the steps, takes his hands 
in greeting, and they sit down on the 



66 CJ)e Celibate 

steps. Babetta peers at them from 
one side of the door, and seeing Jacko, 
she starts ba^k and disappears^ 

DiANORA \_half smiling^. Are you in trou- 
ble, Jacko? 

Jacko [frowning'l. Babetta, she is a fool! 

DiANORA [softly laughing^. That word 
sounds strangely familiar in my ears. 

Jacko \_angrily]. She had a good home, 
and [proudly] she had me. But that was not 
enough. She must needs have a lover too. 

DiANORA. Are you not her lover, Jacko? 
Or did you think that when the priest gave 
sanction to your union with Babetta, the title 
he bestowed of husband was more respectable 
and dignified than that of lover? 

Jacko [staring at her~\. Of course a woman 
gains respectability with a husband which she 
is likely to lose with a lover. 

DiANORA [sadly~\. What a pity man cannot 
invent a term that would combine the public 
honor and security a woman gains by that word 
husband with all the joy and tenderness she 
thrills to in that word, lover ! 

Jacko [puzzled]. Do you mean, Dianora, 
that when a man is a girl's lover, he thinks only 
of love, and when he becomes her husband, he 
thinks more of his dues and rights? 

DiANORA. Yes, that is what I mean. 



Cfte CelitJate 67 

Jacko [earnestly]. And yet, I love Babetta 
with all my heart. [Babetta's face appears 
in the doorway with a radiant smiley then 
quickly disappears~\ But she defied me and 
said she would have as many lovers as she chose. 
DiANORA. She did not mean a word. She 
too was jealous, Jacko — of that girl Isabella 
[Jacko shrugs his shoulders with disgust~\, and 
with her foolish jest about the beads she tried 
to pique your interest, thinking it had waned. 
And then you angered her with your temper 
and unjust suspicions. What you must learn, 
the two of you, is to give and take trust and 
perfect freedom, and so much love that nothing 
else can count. Remember, Jacko, a woman's 
heart is fragile, and must be handled with a gen- 
tle touch. 

Jacko [rising~\. I will go to Babetta and 
tell her that I love her. 

DiANORA. Tell her so often, Jacko, and feel 
it always. \_She rises~\ Wait here a moment. 
[She enters cottage and returns, bringing 
Babetta by the hand. Jacko and Ba- 
betta go towards each other with out- 
stretched arms and embrace, Dianora 
smilingly watching them. Then they 
turn to Dianora] 
Babetta [hissing her]. You are so good 
and kind. My mother wanted me to see the 



68 cfte Celibate 

priest, but you comfort better than any priest, 
Dianora. 

Jacko. The priests do not love as we love, 
or if they ever loved before they turned priest, 
they soon forget, so they cannot understand 
our needs or help us. They tell us to confess 
and pray, and then confess, but their advice is 
cold, and yours is warm with human sympathy. 
Babetta \_as they walk o^]. Good-by, Di- 
anora, good-by ! 

[They disappear, Jacko's arm around Ba- 
betta. Dianora watches them, then 
stands and watches the setting sun. 
Just then enters from wood path to left 
Ernesto. He approaches eagerly, with 
hat in hand. Dianora waits for him, 
smiling, and gives him both her hands^ 
Dianora. I am glad to see you, Ernesto. 
How goes the world with you? 

Ernesto [tenderly~\. The world goes ill 
when days pass and I do not see your face. 

Dianora [gently chiding and withdrawing 
her hands^. Nay, nay, Ernesto. Life should 
be full of work and happiness, for you are 
young and strong, and it is good to be alive. 

Ernesto. It is not good to be alive without 
you. And what do I care for my youth and 
strength if they cannot win your love. O Dia- 
nora, tell me you will some day be my wife. 



Cfte Celifiate 69 



DiANORA [gently putting her hand on his 
shoulder]. Ernesto, I will tell you the secret 
of my heart that no one knows. 

[At this moment, Giralomo, the hunch- 
back, shambles on stage from right. 
Dianora and Ernesto call out to him 
pleasantly, but he does not answer or 
glance at them and disappears through 
woods at left] 
Ernesto [angrily]. The venomous toad! 
I hate his ugly face ! 

Dianora. Ernesto, do not hate a creature 
so forlorn and so deformed in mind and body. 
Pity him, for hate will harm you more than it 
harms him. 

Ernesto [sullenly]. He bodes you little 
good. He speaks ill of you every time he hears 
your name. No one pays heed, but pity is 
wasted on his withered soul. 

Dianora [softly]. I pity him. 
Ernesto. Well, never mind Giralomo. 
Tell me your secret. [With sudden suspicion] 
You love another man ! 

Dianora. Listen, Ernesto. Ten years ago, 
when I was but seventeen, and full of dreams of 
love and life, I met one day a man whose face 
is burned into my heart. I loved him when I 
looked into his eyes, and I think that he loved 
me. But he was of noble birth and I was a 



70 cfte Celiftate 

peasant girl. It was the day they burned my 
granny for a witch. He fought for her with 
all his strength. He was as noble of heart as 
he was of birth. 

Ernesto. Well, did he pursue you and try 
to win you with dishonorable love? 

DiANORA \_sadlij'\. From that day to this I 
have never seen his face. I know not where he 
lives, or if he lives. To me he died on that ter- 
rible day — but my love has never died. 

Ernesto [/m head bowed^ And so that is 
your answer? 

DiANORA. Ernesto, dear, forgive me. You 
must find another whose heart has been reserved 
for you alone. 

Ernesto [^looking earnestly at her^. I shall 
love you to the end, and if you ever need a 
friend — and sometime you may, living alone as 
you choose to live, and with the venom of that 
ugly creature, Giralomo, trying to blacken the 
fairness of your name and fame — if you ever 
need me, send for me, Dianora, and I will come, 
and fight, and die, if need be, for your sake. 

DiANORA [half weeping^. As a friend, Er- 
nesto, I love you tenderly. 

[He seizes her hands and kisses them^ then 
with an effort^ turns from her and dis- 
appears by wood path. She watches 



Cfte Celibate 7i 

him, wipes her eyes, then stands watch- 
ing the sun which is now disappearing. 
Suddenly she raises her head and begins 
to sing the witches^ song. From left 
creeps Giralomo, who peers at her and 
listens, hut she does not see him and sings 
on with abandon of voice and gesture. 
His face grows black and angry and sud- 
denly he turns and disappears. Dia- 
NORA, still singing, enters the cottage. 
A moment later, a sound of angry voices 
and cries is heard in the distance. They 
come nearer and finally emerge from the 
forest path led by Giralomo. They are 
several men and a few women. They 
halt and listen. Dianora is heard 
plainly, singing the song within her cot- 
tage^ 
Giralomo [waving his arms]. You hear! 
I did not He ! You know that song — it is the 
song sung when the Devil has seized a woman's 
soul, and changed her to a witch ! Seize her, 
seize her, before she works evil spells amongst 
you! 

The Mob. Seize her ! Seize her ! The 
witch girl ! [They approach the cottage. Di- 
anora, hearing the noise, comes to the door of 
the cottage and sees the angry mob. Her face 



7^ Cfte Celibate 

expresses astonishment at their obvious an- 
ger] 

GiRALOMO. There she is, the evil one. 
Take her ! Take her ! 

[Dianora's expression changes to slowly 
dawnmg fear^ 

The Mob. Take her ! Take her ! The evil, 
evil one ! 

DiANORA [^lifting one arm and raising her 
voice^. Friends! Villagers! Why do you call 
me evil? What have I done to harm you? I 
have loved you all. Why do you seek to injure 
me? 

One of the Men. You are a witch as your 
grandmother was a witch, and as she was 
burned, so will you be also. 

DiANORA [^clasping her cru€ifix~\. I am noU 
a witch. God is my witness, I have worked no 
evil to any living thing. I have given love for 
love and love for hate. 

Another Man. You never go to confession. 
We know it. You keep away from the churches 
and the priests. 

DiANORA [imploringly^. But have I ever 
spoken ill of them, or sought to keep you from 
them? I have lived my life as best I could, and 
I have loved you all. 

[The moh quiets down and they murmur 
amongst themselves~\ 



Cj)e Celibate 73 

GiRALOMO [^shrilly^. She lies! She lies! 
She hates the priests. She has an evil heart. 
She is a witch! 

DiANORA \_holding out her arms implor- 
ingly]. I never cast a spell in all my life. I 
never healed with herbs, for all such secret 
knowledge as my granny had I never learned. 
What have I ever done to make you call me a 
witch ? 

GiRALOMO. You sang the witches' song! 

The Mob. You sang the witches' song. 
We heard you. The hunchback did not lie. 
He says he has heard you sing it before at this 
same hour. 

DiANORA. It is no witch song. It is a 
sweet, sad song of love from eastern lands. 

\_At this instant Babetta and Jacko come 
running from wood path. Back of them 
come the children^ followed more slowly 
hy PiETRO, the lame hoy] 

Jacko [to the moh, angrily, as he ap- 
proaches]. What are you all doing here? 

One of the Mob. We have come to take the 
witch girl, and burn her at the stake at dawn. 

Jacko [fiercely]. She is no witch, you lying 
cowards ! She is a saint, our Dianora who has 
loved and tended all of you in sickness and in 
health. 

[Babetta pushes through the mob, goes 



74 Cfte Celifiate 

to DiANORA, and clings to her, weeping 
wildly. Jacko spies Giralomo, springs 
towards him, and shakes him roughly^ 
Jacko. Ah, this is your vile work, you toad 
of Hell ! You black and crooked soul ! 

[GiRALOMO struggles in Jacko's grasp, 

and 'finally Jacko gives him a violent 

push and he falls to the ground. Just 

then Ernesto runs on from the forest 

path carrying a heavy stick. He 

pushes his way through the mob till he 

reaches Dianora, and stands in front of 

her^ 

Ernesto. You shall not lay your wicked 

hands upon this girl. She is as pure and good 

as any of God's angels. The first man who 

tries to touch her I will kill. 

[For a moment the mob is cowed, and in 

the momentary lull, the children are 

heard crying and whimpering, and Pie- 

TRo tries to push through the mob'\ 

PiETRo \with a piercing cry^. Dianora! 

Dianora ! The fairies from the " Kingdom 

Beautiful " will come and carry you away to 

the " Land of Things as They Will Be," and 

save you from these wicked men. 

Children [in chorus^. The fairies will 
come and save you and carry you away ! 

GiRALOMO. You hear! You hear! She 



Cfte Celibate 75 

tells the children lies about the spirits of the 
woods. 

PiETRo [screamingl. They are not lies, you 
wicked, evil one. They are not lies ! 

\_He struggles to get through the mob, 

which, growing violent again, pays no 

heed to the hoy, and almost knocks him 

under foot. Jacko, perceiving Pietro's 

danger, rushes to him and lifts him in 

his arms'\ 

jJacko. Babetta, Babetta, come here ! You 

are a woman, come do a woman's work. You 

cannot protect Dianora. That is for a man 

to do. Come, take Pietro and keep him safe. 

Dianora [fo Babetta]. Yes, yes, Babetta, 

go take Pietro. 

[Babetta runs down and takes Pietro 
from Jacko's arms. Jacko pushes 
through the mob and stands by Ern- 
esto] 
One of the Mob. Enough of this delay. 
We want the witch. 

Mob [echoing]. We want the witch. 
Dianora [imploringly]. I am no witch. 
Oh, have you no compassion in your hearts? 
GiRALOMo [screaming]. She lies! She lies! 
The Mob. She lies ! 

[They push nearer and a fight ensues. 
Jacko wrestles with one man and 



76 Cfte Celifiate 

wrenches his club from him with which 
he overcomes two or three men^ hut is 
-finally overborne and dragged away, 
slightly injured. Babetta runs to him 
and she and Pietro kneel by him, weep- 
ing. Ernesto fights desperately and 
knocks down several men with his club. 
DiANORA keeps imploring him not to 
fight and to let the mob take her. Sud- 
denly a tall, rough fellow gets close to 
Ernesto and deals him a savage blow, 
which crumbles Mm down. They drag 
him off, dead. Dianora weeps and 
wrings her hands. The mob seizes her, 
and though she does not resist them, 
they handle her so roughly that her hair 
becomes loosened, and her dress torn. 
Shouting and yelling, they carry her off. 
She turns once towards Babetta and 
Jacko and Pietro and kisses her hand 
to them. Babetta and Pietro weep 
bitterly. Jacko raises himself on his el- 
bow and shakes his fist in impotent rage. 
The other children follow the mob, weep- 
ing] 

curtain 



Cfte Celibate _r7. 

Scene 2 

Several hours later 

Scene: A prison cell of stone, showing a bed 
of rough straw, down stage to right. Up 
stage, center, is an iron door. Up stage, to 
left of door is a small, iron-barred xmndow. 
The cell is dark except for the light from a 
flickering candle in a tall, iron candlestick, up 
stage to right. On the stone floor, near wall 
up stage, right, crouches Dianora, her head 
buried in her arms. After a silent instant, she 
slowly rises, staggering a little, her face ex- 
pressionless, then recovering her balance, her 
expression suddenly changes and she looks 
wildly about the cell. On her breast hangs the 
crucifix. She walks about like a wild thing, 
then goes to the window and tears at the iron 
bars. Then she presses her face against them, 
moaning. Gradually her body straightens, her 
hands relax and fall at her sides, and she leaves 
the window, walking slowly down stage. She 
stands still, raises her hands to the crucifix, 
then slowly drops on her knees. Still clasping 
the crucifix, she looks upward, praying 

Dianora [m a low, deep voice~\. O God, dear 
God ! Save me from their cruel hands ! Save 



78 Cfte Celifiate 

me, for I am innocent, as my grandmother too 
was innocent. Thou didst not see fit to save 
her, but she was old and glad to die. But / 
\_her voice rises in anguish^ I am young, and I 
love life, and I do not want to die. Oh, spare 
me ! Spare me ! 

[She slowly rises, still with the rapt ex- 
pression. Then again the wild look 
comes into her face, and she zoalks to the 
window and again tears at the bars. 
Then with a bitter , sobbing cry, she 
walks to right, and flings herself on the 
flagging between door and right wall of 
the cell. She continues to sob bitterly. 
A sound of voices and of tramping is 
heard approaching the cell. Three men 
come to the door accompanied by a man 
in monk's garb — Adriano] 
One of the Men [opening the door^. This 
is the cell, good father. The witch girl is 
within. [DiANORA has stopped sobbing'\ 
Confess her, father. Here is the key. [He 
hands it to the monk^ When you have done, 
lock the cell door and give the key to the jailor, 
who was asleep as we passed him just now. But 
as for that, it matters not, for the witch girl 
could not escape. 

[Adriano enters the cell, the door is closed 



Cfie Celibate 79 

and the men go off. He sees the crouch- 
ing girl and goes towards her^ 
Adriano [^compassionately^. Poor girl! 
Poor girl ! 

[DiANORA, at the first sound of his voice, 
has given a violent start. Now she 
slowly turns around, without rising, and 
their eyes meet. He starts back vio- 
lently, his face expressing astonishment 
and pam. Dianora's face works with 
emotion as she slowly rises to her feet'\ 
Adriano. You — Dianora ! 
DiANORA [her face brightening^. All these 
years you have remembered my name? 

Adriano [slowly, in a low voice~\. All these 
years I have remembered — your name. 

Dianora [wonderingly~\. You are a monk. 
My grandmother told you the truth that day. 
Adriano. Ten years ago, I entered a mon- 
astery and gave my life to God. [He ap- 
proaches nearer to her~\ But you ! Why have 
they put you here.'' What did you do that they 
should have laid rough hands upon you in vio- 
lence and disrespect .f' 

Dianora [sadly^. I did nothing, Milord. 
I have lived a life of love and service. I have 
tried to heal with kindness wounded hearts, and 
suffering bodies with ministering care, because 



80 Cfte Celibate 

I had none of the mysterious wisdom for which 
my grandmother was condemned to death. 

AmiiANo [excitedly^. Then why, why do 
they plan to harm you, and call you a witch? 

DiANORA. Only because they heard me sing 
a song my granny taught me long ago. The 
song she sang that day in the forest when they 
dragged her off. They say that it is a song of 
Hell and can inspire to sin. But granny said 
it was a love song from far eastern lands, — 
a strange, sweet song. They heard me sing it 
yesterday and said the Devil had my soul and 
made of me a witch. They would not heed 
my entreaties, and so they brought me here. 
They say that they will burn me at the dawn. 
\_She trembles violently, and her face sJiows 
horror and pain^ 

Adriano [^with intense feeling^. It is a 
shame, a wicked shame ! Would that the 
church had power to punish all such cruel deeds. 

DiANORA \_sadly but firmly^. Milord, the 
priests give countenance to these foul deeds. I 
begged the priests to intercede to save my 
grandmother, and they held back and left her 
to her fate. And since that hour, I have not 
entered any church or spoken to a priest. 

Adriano \_shrinking'\. But the crucifix 
upon your breast ! 

DiANORA [claspi/ng it and looking upward^. 



Cbe Celibate si 

I love my God and pray to Him and do His 
will. 

Adriano [^working his hands in suffering of 
mind^. They cannot do this thing. I will not 
let them take you. 

DiANORA. They would pay no heed to you, 
Milord. The church gives countenance to the 
burning of all women accused of witchcraft, 
and the accusers and judges are the people 
themselves. You can do nothing with them. 
[Suddenly she drops to her knees in front 
of him, sobbing'\ They will burn me at the 
stake at dawn. Oh, save me from their cruel 
hands ! 

\^He bends and lifts her tenderly and his 
face shows deep feeling^ 

DiANORA [^looking up at him^. You, you at 
least feel sorrow and compassion. Your eyes 
are wet with tears. \^She seizes his arms with 
both her hands^ Oh, save me from that awful 
death. I am young, I cannot bear to die. 

Adriano [^looking into her face and speaking 
dreamily^. Yes, you are young and beautiful 
and innocent and pure as on that day ten years 
ago, when I met you in the forest. 

[She drops her head on his breast and 
clings to hini\ 

DiANORA [murmuring^. Save me, save me 
from them! 



82 Cfte Celifiate 

[Adriano trembles violently and gently 
holds her away from him~\ 

DiANOBA [^pitifullyl. Is your pity turning 
cold? 

Adriano l^taJcing a few nervous steps up and 
down^. Child, child, I am a monk and you a 
beautiful woman. The touch of woman is de- 
nied me. 

DiANORA [^thoughtfully^. And once you 
sought my lips and looked into my eyes with 
love. And then I never saw you more. Oh, 
why, why did you become a monk? 

Adriano [standing and gazing at her^. 
That day, ten years ago, I looked into your 
eyes with love because your fresh, sweet spirit 
called to my world-weary soul, across the gulf 
that lay between us, — I a nobleman, and you a 
peasant girl. My heart beat wildly in response 
to your beauty and your charm. But for the 
first time, a woman's eyes had shamed the brute 
within me, and made me long for all that my 
philosophy had scoffed at and denied. 

DiANORA. If a poor peasant girl had such 
power to stir your soul, why did you not strive 
to live nobly and well outside the monastery 
walls? Must a man become a monk to save his 
soul ? 

Adriano [sadly^. In mad revolt at all the 
horror of that dreadful scene and the treachery 



Cfte Celiljate 83 

of men who were mj friends, I turned from all 
my life had known. And curious destiny — 
accident perchance — overtook me in that same 
hour. Some monks passed by and chanted as 
they walked. My soul sought peace. I fol- 
lowed them, and shortly after joined their 
brotherhood. 

DiANORA. And of me you never thought, 
Milord.? 

Adriano \_eagerly~\. Many a thought I gave 
to you, my child. Thoughts that seared my 
heart with passion, a passion which sought only 
my own ends. And other thoughts I had that 
put you high above all base desire, and bade 
me let you be. [Slowly and sadly~\ This was 
before I took my final vows. Alas, I loved you 
not enough to put aside traditions as to caste 
and take you for my wife, and yet my love for- 
bade that I should take you otherwise. And 
then I turned unto the church and there sought 
peace. \_He bows his head~\ 

DiANORA. And have you found your peace. 
Milord.? 

Adriano. God help me, no! 

DiANORA [approaching himi\. I gave to you 
my heart. Milord, that day, and all the years 
have not sufficed to teach me to forget. 

[He trembles violently and gazes yearn- 
ingly at her. She again seizes his arms^ 



84 Cfte €tUtatt 

DiANORA [^with rising passion^. You loved 
me once. You love me now. Oh, save me, save 
me ! 

Adriano \_desperately^. How can I save 
jou ? Tell me, tell me how ! 

DiANORA [clinging to Mm and gazing up into 
his face^. There is a way. The jailor sleeps. 
We can pass out softly, and yonder lies a field, 
and beyond there is the forest. It is dark in 
the forest, dark and dense, and I know a place 
where a treasure is hid, and long since forgot- 
ten. We will find it and fly to some far coun- 
try, safe from pursuit and harm. 

Adriano [trembling^. Child, child, what 
are you saying! I am a monk. My vows for- 
bid me the love of woman. I cannot go. [His 
voice sinks despairimgly^ 

DiANORA [eagerly^. It is the only way. I 
cannot go alone. They would pursue and cap- 
ture me. [She glances out of the window^. 
The stars are paling, let us haste, for soon the 
day will come. [Suddenly she flings her arms 
around his neck. Her hair falls about her face 
and brushes against his cheek^ I love you, 
love you, I have always loved you. And you 
love me. Oh, save me, save me. There is no 
life without love. We love each other and our 
love can injure no human being, and God — 



Cfte Celifiate 85 

\_She throws back her head and looks upward^ 
ah, God will understand ! 

\_She clings to him and drops her face on 
his breast. He bends his head nearer 
to hers, then, abruptly, he tears himself 
away and stands staring at her, finger- 
ing his crucifix^ 

Adriano. O God ! My vow ! My vow ! 

T)iAis!onA [passionately^. Your vow ! What 
is your vow? You promised to renounce all 
evil things, but love like ours is not the Devil's 
work. It is of God. 

Adriano. My vow is the vow of celibacy, 
and for my soul's sake I dare not break that 
vow. 

DiANORA \_with a sudden cry of anguish~\. 
For your soul's sake ! Do you recall that when 
my granny read your palm, she warned you 
that to take selfish heed for one's own soul de- 
stroys the soul. My life, my innocent life 
given by God, is in your keeping. Would 3'^ou 
leave me to a dreadful death to save your 
soul? 

Adriano \_shuddering~\. My vow! I dare 
not break my vow. 

DiANORA [pleading passionately^. You 
fought with all your strength to save the life 
of an old woman, because the cruel injustice 



86 Cfte Celibate 

of the mob incensed you. Then you were a 
man of lawless life, and yet your heart was ten- 
der and self-forgetting. And now, in this hour, 
you will not save my life, I who am young and 
innocent of wrong, because to save my life, you 
would have to break a vow which concerns only 
the safety of your own soul. What is it worth 
to you, your faith, if it does not teach you to 
make sacrifice for justice and for mercy .'^ 

Adriano. I risked only my life when I 
strove to save your grandmother. To save you 
I should risk my sovl. If I did not love you, if 
once your lips had not turned my blood to fire, I 
might save you without blackening my soul. 
But if I flee with you, it would be for myself as 
well as for you. Once your eyes shamed in me 
the lust of flesh, and now, in this hour, you 
whom I love have become the instrument of 
temptation where once you were the instrument 
of good. 

DiANORA [again flinging herself into his arms 
and clinging to /lim]. O God, teach him the 
truth! Adriano, do you recall the prophecy .^^ 
That perfect love would only come when re- 
morse had swept your heart clean of selfish 
thought for the safety of your own soul.^^ Oh, 
save yourself that remorse in years to come. 
Put mercy and justice and compassion above 
your soul's salvation. God will understand 



Cfte Celibate st 

and save jour soul. I love you, love you ! Oh, 

save me from my doom ! 

\^She clings desperately to him. He sud- 
denly bends over her and presses his lips 
to hers. Then his arms go around her 
and he holds her in a passionate em- 
brace. Then suddenly, with a violent 
shudder, he tears away her clinging 
arms, thrusts her from him, and stares 
at her with an expression of horror. 
She staggers back and gazes at him vn 
fear and agony^ 
Adriano. I cannot break my vow ! It 

means eternal punishment, and I must save my 

soul! 

[^He turns blindly to the door, tears it 
open, rushes out, slams the door shut, 
and disappears, running. Dianora 
sinks to the floor with a cry of despair 
and agony^ 

CURTAIN 



Scene 3 
One hour later 

Scene: The dawn is breaking. To right is 
a wooded hill with winding path leading down- 
ward through the valley, which recedes into the 



88 Cfte Celifiate 

distance. Peasants pass to and fro, carrying 
food, water, etc., and giving one another greet- 
ings as they pass. In the distance is heard 
shouting. Suddenly a youth comes running 
from woods at left. 

Youth [accosting peasants as he passes 
theiri\. They are coming with the witch. 
They are going to take her up there on the top 
of the hill and burn her at a stake. [He runs 
excitedly off stage to right, and later returns 
with other youths^ 

[In the meantime the moh approaches, and 
in their midst walks Dianora. Her 
head is raised and she fingers her cruci- 
fix. She waUcs firmly, without waver- 
ing. The crowd murmur and jostle one 
another. They pass slowly and start 
up the hill, youths and children and 
young girls following and standing on 
the outskirts, all looking after the little 
procession. From left walks swiftly 
Adriano. His face is wild and his hair 
disheveled. He sees the procession and 
gives a sudden cry. He darts forward 
as if to climh the hill, then drops hack, 
step by step, and stands, his hands 
clenched and his face uplifted, with an 
agonized expression. He stands rigid 



Ci)e Celibate 89 

as the procession fles slowly to the top 
of the hill, becoming less and less visible 
through the trees that mark the path. 
Dimly, through the trees at the top, 
moving figures can he seen. Then the 
light of a torch is visible moving about. 
Adriano gives another cry and again 
starts forward. But again he stops, 
trembling violently and stares trans- 
fixed. Suddenly a blaze of fire is seen 
through the trees. A t the same moment 
DiANORA gives a wild cry, and breaks 
into the witches' song, with piercing 
sweetness. As the fire grows brighter, 
she continues to sing. With a loud cry 
of agony, Adriano falls on his face to 
the ground^ 



CURTAIN 



ACT III 

Forty years later 

Scene: High-vaulted^ austere and hare in- 
terior of a monastery. Walls and floorvng of 
stone. In a niche to left, down stage, is a fig- 
ure of the Virgin. Candles are lit at the feet 
of this figure. Up stage, directly center, a 
broad corridor receding into the distance. 
Above this is a huge, stained-glass window, 
through which the moonlight streams. To left, 
midway down stage, is a large arched opening, 
giving a vista of further interior distances. 
To right, midway down stage, is an arched 
doorway with heavy wooden door, which is 
closed. 

l^From the distance, chanting is heard ap- 
proaching. Afar off, in the corridor up stage, 
a procession of monks appears, preceded by the 
Prior of the Monastery. They carry cen- 
sers and tall candles lit. The smell of incense 
is in the air. They come forward and turn to- 
wards the corridor at left. At this instant, the 
door at right is suddenly opened, and Brother 

RicARDO, a young monk, enters walking 

90 



Cfte Celifiate 9i 

quickly. The monks observe Mm and come to 
a halt. He approaches the Prior and makes 
a genuflection^ 

RiCARDO. Father ! Our brother Adriano 
seems not so well. He sent me to you, Father. 
He wishes a confessor this very hour. 

Prior [surprised^. A confessor! Is 
Brother Adriano then so ill? 

[The other monks murmur expressions of 
surprise and consternation and group 
themselves up stage^ 

RiCARDO [m subdued excitejTient'\. Father, 
he says that the rising sun will bid his soul de- 
part for Purgatory. He talks in strange fash- 
ion, does Brother Adriano. 

Prior. What strange things does he say, 
Brother Ricardo? 

RiCARDO [in awed tofiesj^. He says that 
eternity is not long enough in which to purge 
his soul of sin. 

First Monk [exclaimingl^. Of sin! 

Second Monk. What sins can Brother Ad- 
riano have from which to purge his soul.^^ 

Prior [turning to one of the older monks^. 
Brother Confessor, go to Brother Adriano at 
once and let him confess. [He glances from 
one to the other of the monks^ Confession is 
alike for all of us, whether we be holy monks 



92 Cfte Celibate 

or men of worldly ways and evil. [^Looks again 
at the confessor^ We shall here await your 
return. 

[^The confessor walks to door at right, 
opens it and disappears^ closing door. 
Slowly the monks come forward and 
group themselves down stage'\ 

Third Monk. It is twenty years since I 
came into this brotherhood, and in all that time 
I have looked upon Brother Adriano as one of 
the saintliest of men. 

First Monk. I have been here thirty years, 
and no holier man ever lived in my memory 
than Brother Adriano. 

Prior [slowly^. And / — I have been here 
more j^ears than any of you, and Brother Ad- 
riano I have looked upon as one of the un- 
crowned saints of Heaven. 

Second Monk. No one ever heard him 
speak a harsh word in all the years. 

Third Monk. He has been gentle with suf- 
fering of body or mind, and patient with all 
waywardness or doubts, or storm-tossed hearts 
that came across his path. 

First Monk. And he has ever been so de- 
vout, so pious in his thoughts and in his daily 
acts. 

Fourth Monk. And he loved all dumb crea- 
tures and they loved him. 



Cfte Celfftate 93 

RicARDO l^eagerly^. And when Brother An- 
selmo died, confessing that all his life here in 
our midst he had cherished the love of a woman, 
do you recall, brothers, how Brother Adriano 
wept with him, and held his hands in that last 
hour of agony? 

Third Monk. There was never a weakness 
or error of the human heart that Brother Ad- 
riano did not understand. To all, he has given 
of his strength and tenderness of soul to com- 
fort and uplift. 

RiCARDO. Has it not been said that Brother 
Adriano came into the brotherhood from a life 
of gay abandon, — a 3'oung noble from the 
court at Naples? 

Prior \_severelij~\. Hush, Brother Ricardo ! 
That is long past and gone. Adriano joined 
the brotherhood when he was still very young 
— but twenty-five — and such sins as he had 
then to his account, he made full confession of 
before he took his final vows. Those sins have 
long since been washed clean from his soul. 
His death confession would be only of sins com- 
mitted and as yet unconfessed, and these can- 
not be the sins of the flesh as are those of 
youth. 

First Monk. Brother Confessor is a long 
time absent. Why should it take so long? 
Adriano can have so very little to confess. 



94 Cfte Celibate 

Second Monk. Surely he can have left 
nothing unconfessed by now ! 

\_At this instant the tolling of a hell is 
heard. The monks drop to their knees 
and pray for Adriano. Suddenly is 
heard a cry of anguish in a man's voice. 
The monks stop praying and lift their 
heads in astonishment. The Prior rises 
to his feet and the others do likewise. 
The hells continue to ring, hut faintly, 
as if dying away. Then out of the 
silence comes a man^s voice singing the 
witches^ song. It sounds distinct and 
clear, and full of passionate feeling^ 
Prior \_crossing himself^. What may that 
be? 

First Monk \_crossing himself^. It is no 
hymn or litany. It sounds like music from the 
world of wickedness and sin. 

[The door at right is Hung open, and the 
Brother Confessor rushes out and ap- 
proaches the Prior] 
Confessor [crossing himself^. The devil 
himself is amongst us ! God has forsaken Ad- 
riano ! Satan has his soul ! 

[For a few seconds there is absolute 
silence, the monks shrinking hack in fear 
and horror^ 
Prior [horrified^. What mean you.^ 



Cfte Celibate 95 

Confessor. Hear you not that song of 
woman and of love? It is Adriano ! I tell you, 
Satan has his soul ! 

Prior [^solemnly^. Brothers, let us sing a 
hymn for our brother's soul. 

[They sing words to the effect that they 
pray to he defended against evil spirits 
and preserved from sinful lust, and from 
the power of the Devil. Through the 
music of the hymn, and gradually rising 
above it, is heard the singing of the 
witches* song. Then the door at right 
is slowly opened, and in the doorway ap- 
pears Adriano, old and thin and white, 
but with his head thrown hack, and an 
exalted expression on his face. The 
monks sway their censers violently and 
chcmt in chorus the words: *' Satan 
depart from the soul of this dying 
man!'' Adriano stands still watching 
the monks. They finally cease singing 
and stare in silent awe at Adriano] 
Adriano [raising his hand^. Brothers, — 
it is well that you should pray to Satan to leave 
my soul in peace. I need your prayers, for 
peace I have not known these forty years. 

[The monks express fear and consterna- 
tion in gesture and expression'\ 
Prior [slowly approaching Adriano]. 



96 Cbe Celibate 

Brother Adriano, your words are strange. 
What powers of evil control your tongue this 
hour? You say that peace you have not known 
these forty years. What mean you? 

Adriano [^sadli^^ I mean that forty years 
ago I committed a crime, and my spirit has 
been in torment ever since. 

Prior. A crime! [He crosses himself. 
Three of the monks repeat after him^ one after 
the other: _ ^* A crime! " and all cross them- 
selv^s'\ You have been with us fifty years. 
What crime could you commit within these mon- 
astery walls, or without on your errands of 
mercy ? 

Adriano [hitterlyl^. It was on one of my 
errands of mercy that I committed a crime. 

Prior [sternlyj. What was the nature of 
this crime? 

Adriano \_in colorless tone~\. Men call it 
murder ! 

[The Prior draws quickly away from Ad- 
rian©. The monks shrink hack in fear 
and horror^ 

Adriano [with feelingly. I murdered a wom- 
an's body to save my soul. [His voice rises 
in a cry of woe^ O God ! To save my soul! 

Prior [turning to the Confessor]. His 
mind is unhinged. How could a man dream to 
save his soul by committing murder? 



Cfte Celibate 97 

Adeiano [^more quietly, and leaning against 
the wall near the door of his celV\. My mind 
is clearer in this hour than in all my life be- 
fore. [He looks fixedly at the Prior] 
Brother, — I can see deep into the mysteries 
of truth, of life and death, of Heaven and Hell, 
and hearken unto me. The murder of the 
thing we call the body is only one of countless 
crimes — crimes of omission — the coward 
crimes of all — committed for the sake of our 
own pitiable souls ! 

Prior. / have committed no crime of any 
sort in all my life. 

Adriano \_in louder tones~\. There are 
crimes not listed in our vain decrees as to what 
is evil, or yet more evil. 

Prior \_impatiently'\. What murder were 
you guilty of? Speak out — confess before 
your strength begins to fail. 

Adriano [mldly~\. I tell you, I murdered a 
woman's body to save my soul ! 

Monks \^in chorus of two or three at a time^. 
Who was she? Who was this woman? 

Adriano [^throwing back his head, his ex- 
pression growing exalted^. She was the woman 
I loved above all earthly things. 

Prior [horrified^. You say this happened 
forty years ago? You were then a monk. 
You say that you loved a woman then? 



98 Cbe Celibate 

Ai>RiANO. I loved her and she loved me. 
We had met ten years before and I loved her at 
first sight, but she was a peasant girl, and I a 
nobleman, and my wicked pride forbade a mar- 
riage beneath my station. Then for peace I 
turned to God. I joined this brotherhood. 
But peace I did not find. The human cravings 
of the heart were stifled and suppressed. Ten 
years later, I was called one night to confess a 
girl condemned to be burned as a witch. [^The 
vioTiks cross themselves and Adriano observes 
them^ Ah, cross yourselves, good Brothers ! 
The very name of witch may poison your pious 
souls ! I went to the prison cell and found 
there the girl I had met and loved ten years be- 
fore. In a mad rush came love again, but it 
was a love that put my soul's salvation above 
her human welfare. She was young and beau- 
tiful and pure and good. She implored me to 
save her, — to escape with her into the night 
and off to some far country. I could have 
done it. My heart, in wild bounds, besought 
me to save her. I kissed her on the lips, and 
held her in my arms for one brief space, then 
swift recoiled as from some evil thing. I 
thought the Devil gripped my soul because a 
w^oman's lips had touched mine own in ecstasy. 
But it was love, not lust, and it was the Devil's 
prompting that made me shrink from anything 



Cfte Celibate 99 

so pure and sweet. And it was my small and 
stifled soul that bade me keep my vow — the 
vow — of Celibaey! 

Prior [^quietly J. Go on, Brother Adriano. 
You say you murdered her? 

Adriano. Yes, I murdered her because I 
did not save her. I ran from her and left her 
to her doom, because I wished to save my soul. 
O God in Heaven ! — to save my soul ! \^He 
sinks to his knees and raises his arms upwards^ 

Prior \_astonished^. What mean you by as- 
serting that you killed this girl? You left her 
to her doom — innocent or guilty, it matters 
not — because to save her you must have 
broken your sacred vow. That was no crime ! 
Rather was it a crime to love this woman. 
Pray now, my brother, that 3^our God forgive 
this sin before you die. 

Adriano \_with exalted lookl. I pray to 
God to forgive me that I did not love her well 
enough to forget m}^ own poor, selfish soul. 

[^The monks look frightened and shocked 
and cross themselves^ 

Prior [sternly^. The love of woman was 
forbidden you. 

Adriano [^slowly rising to his feet and speak- 
ing passionately^. Let lust be forbidden, not 
only to monks and priests, but to all men. 
But love ! Let all men love with all their hearts 



100 Cfte Celibate 

and all their spirits' fire, for only through great 
love can come redemption from selfish aims and 
ends. My crime was that I did not love enough 
— not that I loved a woman ! 

Prior. You speak not sanely. You know 
not what you say. 

Adriano [with intense feeling']. Each mor- 
tal is his own Heaven or Hell according as he 
loves — and love of man for woman was decreed 
by God, and if it be pure and deep, is God's 
own sj^mbol of eternal life. In all these years 
while I have seemed so perfect in your eyes, in 
my own, I have lived a defiled, unhappy wretch, 
forsaken by my God because in her hour of need 
I forsook the woman whom I loved. [He holds 
out his hands pleadingly] O brothers, heed 
my words ! Love is immortal ! And to seek 
one's soul's salvation at the cost of any crea- 
ture's anguish is to lose one's soul. 

RiCARDO [impulsively approaching Adriano, 
and kneeling on one knee before himl^. O 
Brother Adriano ! If love be immortal, surely 
it will lift you above all earthly misery and 
sin. 

[The other monks give groans of shocked 
disapproval and cross themselves] 

Adriano [gently putting his hand on Ri- 
CARDo's head]. My son, life lies before you to 
make or mar. Fail not as / have failed. For 



Cbe Celibate loi 

I am old and my life is spent, and I am un- 
worthy, for I outraged love, and must suffer 
to the end. 

\_TJie rosy light of dawn conies through the 
window. Adriano gazes at it with a 
far-away expression^ 
Adriano [^very low^. It was at the hour of 
dawn she perished. [Ricardo gazes at Ad- 
riano. Adriano's voice rises in excitemenf] 
They set the torch to the wood piled at her feet, 
and as the smoke grew thick and the flames 
darted heavenward, she sang that song of love 

— the song that men of wicked hearts have 
called the witches' song. I fled from the spot, 

— but her voice fled with me. And whether I 
have slumbered or fasted or knelt in prayer, I 
have been haunted always by that song. For 
forty years, asleep or waking, it has echoed in 
my ears. 

[Still gazing at the window he shows hy 

expression of face and attitude of body 

that he is intently listening. The monks 

make no sound, but stare at him as if 

spellbound^ 

Adriano [m hushed tones^. I hear — afar 

off — that song of love. [He continues to gaze 

and listen with rapt expression^ 

[The monks turn their heads a7id look up- 
ward, Ricardo, still on one knee, turns 



102 Cfte Celibate 



his head and stares at the window, then 
rises slowly to his feetl^ 
Adriano. I hear her singing — her spirit is 
calling mine ! [Suddenly he takes a step or 
two towards the window, and cries in tones of 
agony'\ Dianora ! Dianora ! I am not worthy 
to meet you in Paradise. My soul is defiled. 
I am not worthy. [Again he listens and then 
speaks excitedly^ The song grows louder in 
my ears ! She is coming nearer — nearer — 
[He raises his arms in a passionate gesture^ 
O God of mercy! It must be that the long 
years of penance and suffering are over. Her 
spirit comes to seek my own. [His voice rises 
m ecstasy, and he takes a step forward^ Be- 
loved — I am coming — coming — [He falls 
suddenly forward on his face^ 

RiCARDO [going quickly to him, dropping on 
his knees, and bending over him^. He is dead! 
Adriano is dead ! 

Prior [lifting his hands and speaking in 
hushed and awed tones~\. What our eyes can- 
not see, — what our ears cannot hear, — or our 
lips explain, God understands. Judge not, 
brothers ! Judgment is God's ! 

[The monks all kneel i/n prayer'\ 

CURTAIN 



THE WITCH SONG 

" FAR FROM THEE"* 




Scale c, d, eb, frt, g, a?, b, c 
Andante soUenuto Pf> 

mf 

fa 



te±I^_E^JEta^ 



-■^ 



I I ! . 



O how long was the night . which I 




passed in weeping and long-ingfor thee; 




# m-br-l- ^ — N— 

1 — I H* » — J^iH^- 
^ — 1/ ^ •-jt ^ — 



Al - ways of thee, of thee,dear, did I 

pp piu vivo e leggiero 




-1-7— J — d- §•- — ^^ ■ 






-I H — P- 



-3: 



dream at the sing-ing ofbirds,at the 



m 



sound of the fountain. The night, 



^^ |g^^g^^35fe^ | $p|g!|^ 



. O how 



t-^ 



m 



L 



Ki^l^E^ift:^^^ 



f? 






long was the night. O be-lov - ed, the night. 
* From Capellen : Exotic Songs 



